Dead or Alive
by sheepish123
Summary: Amanda is not adjusting very well to life in New York and Olivia can't help but take notice of the secretive and disconcerting behavior of her colleague. Takes place in season 13. Trigger warnings inside. Amanda/Olivia pairing. *INCOMPLETE*
1. Chapter 1

**This story takes place in season 13, a few months after Amanda transferred from Atlanta, and is a different, darker take on how things could have gone following her arrival. I'm not sure how long this fic will be just yet, but it likely won't be longer than a few chapters.**

 **Frannie doesn't exist in this story.**

 ** _Trigger warnings for mentions of rape, gambling addiction and alcohol abuse_. **

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Amanda Rollins is dead.

Or at least that is how she feels on the inside; like a body without a soul, slowly rotting away while she goes about her daily routine and presents the usual content, charming mask to the world that hides the devastation, the insecurities, and the complete and utter darkness that has taken up residence within.

The gambling addiction that is growing stronger by the day, combined with the memories of what her former deputy chief had done to her back in Atlanta as well as her insatiable desire for any type of alcoholic beverage, are threatening to swallow her whole. She has been drowning in a sea of immense sorrow and shame and regret, and cannot seem to fight her way back to shore no matter how hard she tries, the solid ground that she so desperately seeks nothing more than a grain of sand in an ever-widening ocean of despair.

The transfer to New York had done nothing to curb the bad habits or intense flashbacks that have been plaguing her life for months now, barely pulling herself together enough to do her job; the one she had worked so hard to get, the one she had fought tooth and nail to keep when it had been in jeopardy due to her superior's contemptible actions.

When Amanda allows herself to go back to that time and place and think about all that had transpired; the things she had done to save her sister and to hold onto a job that she had wanted more than anything in her life, the ensuing wave of anguish is so all-consuming that the only way to obliterate it is through gambling or booze, the two vices that are teaming up to wreak even more havoc on a life that is already in shambles.

She is all too aware of just how far she has unraveled these past several months, hanging on by the thinnest of threads to what is left of her sanity as she goes about her days chasing suspects out in the field and listening to horrendous stories of rape and abuse from their victims. The calm demeanor that so carefully disguises the hidden chaos is immediately shattered upon leaving the precinct each day, left up to her own dark devices until the next morning when she has to do it all over again; the pretending and the faking and the deception, showing her perfect, unperturbed face to the world.

Amanda is an expert at this kind of thing; the ability to act like all is just fine and dandy when that couldn't be further from the truth, this particular farce coming as natural to her as breathing. She has been doing this for her entire life, although never more so than since she has come to New York, and probably should have become an actress instead of a detective, as that is where she truly excels; her skill set in this area second to none. Amanda is aware that she has been slipping up a bit more lately, though, and resolves to watch herself carefully, having caught Olivia Benson throwing her an odd look from time to time, the older woman occasionally appearing to be on the verge of asking her something before apparently deciding against it.

She has very mixed feelings when it comes to her beautiful co-worker, as Olivia was quite a legend in her mind when she had been working in Atlanta; Amanda following the brunette detective's career with an intensity that had bordered on obsession. Olivia has more than lived up to her legendary status in the months they have been working together, even going so far as to surpass how highly Amanda had already thought of her, secretly admiring the other woman's ability to so seamlessly combine the tough and tender aspects of her personality while dealing with victims and suspects alike.

She has long tried to emulate Olivia's admirable qualities in her own work, and would be devastated if her colleague ever caught on to just what a disgrace Amanda actually is, waking up in a pool of her own vomit more often that not after spending half the night at the local bar, screaming at the television as the team she is rooting for loses once again and sends her plummeting into a pit of despair. Money slips through her fingers like water and she couldn't hold onto any amount of cash if her life depended on it; gambling is in her blood and has been passed down from generation to generation until it had inevitably reached her and wrought its own unique brand of destruction, only growing worse with the abuse by her deputy chief and her insatiable need for anything in a bottle.

The fact that Amanda has been able to hold onto her job for this long is a miracle in itself, and having to work side by side with Olivia everyday is a special kind of torture, as she both idolizes the older woman for the incredible work she does and is head over heels in love with her on a more personal level, catching occasional glimpses of the vulnerability that lies beneath the smooth exterior. She longs to know Olivia on a level that goes much deeper than that of merely co-workers or even friendship, but her rather unhealthy extracurricular activities have prevented this from happening as of yet, as well as how closed off Olivia seems to be most of the time, the other woman likely dealing with her own demons along with their heavy caseload and not having time for much else.

Today in particular has not been a good day, as Amanda is nursing some very nasty bruised ribs, the injury a product of a drunken fall off a bar stool the night before, prompting the bartender to kick her out amid shouts and catcalls from the inebriated men gathered around her as they had watched the game. Her only saving grace is that it's nearing the end of the workday on Friday and she has all weekend to recuperate if she can manage to just stay home and not get into any kind of trouble. But trouble has a way of finding her, even when she isn't going out of her way to look for it, and she figures Saturday and Sunday will end up being just as eventful as they usually are.

After saying goodnight to her co-workers and wishing everyone a great weekend, Amanda is standing outdoors on the sidewalk, trembling fingers trying to light a cigarette that she can enjoy on the walk back to her truck, the slight movements causing her to wince in pain and emit a small gasp as she accidentally drops the cigarette to the ground.

"Lose something?" a gentle voice suddenly asks, an olive hand reaching up from below to hand the cigarette back to her, Olivia Benson having bent down and snatched the object right out of thin air, rescuing the item and returning it to her before it could hit the filthy sidewalk.

"Yeah, thanks," Amanda mumbles in surprise, reaching out to take the cigarette from the taller woman and a spark of electricity running through her limbs when their fingertips briefly brush together.

"Those things will kill you, you know," Olivia replies lightly as she arches a dark eyebrow at her, Amanda rolling her eyes in return and balancing the cigarette between her lips as she lights it.

"So I've been told," she mutters wryly with a careless shrug, taking a deep, grateful drag and blowing a ring of smoke into the air. "If you're so worried about them killing me, why'd you save it from falling into the street?"

"Because you looked like you were already having a bad enough day," Olivia says softly, Amanda blinking in consternation as she meets the brunette's steady gaze and notices how closely she is being observed. "Seriously, though, Rollins, it's a terrible habit. It'll take years off your life."

"And that's such a bad thing?" Amanda chuckles humorlessly, flicking a bit of ash off the end of the cigarette and inhaling again, Olivia's strides matching her own as they begin walking down the street together. "If you think this is terrible, you should see my other habits."

The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them and it feels like a brick has lodged itself inside her throat as she throws a swift glance in Olivia's direction, the senior detective gazing at her with an unreadable expression on her face and a slight frown marring her perfect features.

"What are you doing tonight?" Olivia questions abruptly, causing Amanda's eyebrows to raise high on her forehead in response to the unexpected inquiry. "Do you have any plans?"

She neglects to mention that her only plan had involved drinking the large bottle of vodka that is waiting for her on the kitchen counter, hoping to get blackout drunk so she can obliterate the horrific memories that have been playing on a loop inside her brain all day, but simply shaking her head without comment.

"Do you want to get something to eat?" Olivia asks as she gestures toward a nearby restaurant, Amanda's heart leaping with both hope and confusion, as the other woman has never taken much of an interest in her before.

"Yeah, sure," she replies casually, trying to keep the enthusiasm from her voice as she tosses her half-finished cigarette to the ground and they head toward a little Italian place that Amanda has passed by a million times on her trek back and forth from the station but has never gone inside.

"Sorry, I didn't think to ask if you even like this kind of food," Olivia says with an apologetic smile when they are seated in a booth near the back of the small room and a waiter is handing them a couple of menus.

"I'm fine with pretty much any kind of food," Amanda answers as she meticulously peruses her menu despite not having much of an appetite, again neglecting to add that most of her meals lately have been consisting only of alcohol.

There is a beat of awkward silence and she looks up to see Olivia gazing intently at her, a slight blush spreading across Amanda's cheeks at the intense amount of scrutiny that is currently being trained upon her. "What?" she murmurs in apprehension, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and trying to decide if she is enjoying the attention that Olivia is focusing so acutely on her or if she just finds it unnerving; either way it is definitely not something she is used to.

"I just wanted you to know that I've noticed how gingerly you've been moving around today," Olivia responds in a careful tone, a smooth olive hand sliding atop Amanda's pale one on the table, her skin feeling like it is about to burst into flames beneath the other woman's cool palm. "Did you hurt yourself, Amanda?" There is a short pause after Olivia chooses to use her first name in an apparent effort to be more intimate with her, the dark stare that is fixed upon her only intensifying as they gaze unwaveringly at one another, brown eyes locked onto blue. "Or did someone hurt you?"

"Oh, I see what this is," Amanda replies quietly, disappointment coursing through her system when she realizes that Olivia had not asked her out for a meal to initiate any kind of friendship between them, or perhaps even something more. "Your motive for inviting me to dinner was to find out if someone is abusing me?"

"This isn't the first time I've noticed this kind of thing," Olivia says softly, Amanda's hand going still beneath the older woman's fingers just as she had been about to pull away from the concerned touch of her co-worker. "There have been other days where you seem to be holding yourself very carefully, like you're in pain. I know what goes on in your personal life is none of my business, but well...I've been worried about you and wondering what's going on."

Amanda is momentarily at a loss for words as she digests this new information; at once panicked and horrified that she has not been hiding her alcohol-induced injuries as well as she had previously thought, but stunned and curiously elated that Olivia is worried about her. She knows that any inclination she has to confide in the brunette has to be immediately squashed, as she can't risk losing her job and any respect that Olivia might actually have for her by revealing how she has been choosing to occupy herself when she's not at the precinct.

"Would you believe that I'm just clumsy?" Amanda murmurs with a self-deprecating shrug, giving Olivia's fingers a quick squeeze before removing her hand from the table and placing it in her lap.

"Nope, I wouldn't believe it," Olivia answers very seriously, that penetrating dark gaze so laser-sharp that Amanda is forced to look away. "You can take down suspects twice your size in a split second and I've never seen someone who is as good of a shot as you are. Do those sound like things a clumsy person would be able to do?"

Amanda is floored at the unexpected compliments from a woman she has idolized for such a long time, but the warmth that floods through her is swiftly chilled at Olivia's next words. "That being said, you've seemed a little _off_ lately, not quite as on point with things as you usually are. I need you to be honest with me here, Amanda. Is someone hurting you? Is your boyfriend doing this to you?"

"My _boyfriend?"_ Amanda sputters out an incredulous laugh, never having been shy with her sexuality before and certainly not about to start now, although she is unable to get an accurate read on Olivia's, no matter how hard she tries. "I'm gay, Liv. Never had a boyfriend and never will."

If Olivia is shocked by this revelation, she doesn't show it; the older woman's features remaining smooth and unruffled, the impenetrable mask fixed on her face that she wears when they are trying to get a confession from the toughest of suspects and she doesn't want to tip her hand. "Well, your girlfriend, then?"

"I'm as single as they come," Amanda answers blithely, amused and flattered that Olivia thinks someone would actually want to date a piece of trash such as herself, as she has fucked up every single relationship she has ever had in her life; whether it be of the family, friend, or romance variety.

"Are you sure you're not fishing around about who I'm dating for a different reason?" she continues in a joking manner, partly to lighten the mood and direct the conversation away from topics that she would rather avoid, and partly because she is genuinely curious about the mysterious Olivia Benson and wants to learn more about her.

Amanda wilts somewhat under the hard stare that Olivia is piercing her with now, feeling chastened for goofing around in such a somber situation and coming to the realization that she is not going to receive an answer to that particular question; not that she has really been expecting one, anyway.

They are interrupted by the waiter approaching their booth to ask if he can get them anything to drink, and Amanda accidentally swipes her fork off the table and onto the floor as she flips quickly through her menu for the beverage that had caught her eye while she had been searching for something to quench her thirst. She points the drink out to the waiter and Olivia chooses one of her own, the young man smiling politely at them and promising to be back with their beverages as soon as possible.

Amanda can feel her fork lying on the marbled floor right beside her left foot and she leans down to pluck it from the tiles, figuring she can ask for a new utensil when their waiter returns with their drinks. She momentarily forgets how much her ribs are still aching from her fall off the bar stool the previous night, and it is all she can do to keep from screaming as she settles upright into the seat again, her entire midsection feeling as if it is on fire with the small amount of movement.

Amanda is unable to maintain her usual stoic composure and winces sharply, letting out a low moan of agony as she hunches over in the booth, both palms sliding up to grasp onto her ribs as if she can somehow hold the excruciating pain inside merely by the grip of her hands. Olivia's smooth mask slips from her face right away, the other woman regarding her with barely disguised alarm now, and before Amanda knows what is happening, the brunette is up and out of her seat and gently grasping onto her arm.

Amanda lets herself be pulled to feet and guided toward the nearby bathroom, knowing that she needs to put a stop to her colleague's actions and just make some excuse to leave and go home. Instead of trying to explain that she is fine and would rather not continue on with their dinner date or whatever the hell this meal can be classified as, she swiftly finds herself locked inside a tiny stall with Olivia, standing so close to the taller woman that they are breathing the same air and the front of their bodies are practically touching.

"Show me," Olivia commands softly, gesturing down to Amanda's blue silk blouse that she had donned for work that day, and the brunette's voice is filled with such tenderness and concern, the look in her eyes so compassionate and soothing that Amanda doesn't think twice before untucking her shirt from her dress pants and lifting it up slightly to expose the pale skin of her belly.

She knows the bruises span the majority of her torso, as it was quite a hard fall and has wondered if she had actually cracked a rib or two in the process, Olivia's sharp inhale of breath confirming how bad it must look now that the wounds have had a chance to settle in and become more pronounced. Amanda shivers when she feels the other woman's fingertips grazing her bare side, nodding in wordless consent when Olivia grasps onto the hem of her blouse and tilts her head in question before pulling the garment higher so it is resting just below Amanda's bra.

She is so entranced by the woman in front of her that she doesn't know where to look or what to do as Olivia examines her body with the same intense scrutiny that she had displayed outside the precinct and at the table, the blue and purple bruises providing a splotchy and colorful palette across her otherwise unblemished alabaster skin. Amanda is aware that she has now opened up a Pandora's Box of sorts that won't be easy to close again, allowing Olivia to peer so intimately at not only her body but also the contents of her head, as the behavior she has been engaging in lately, as well as the horrific flashbacks she has been suffering are right there on the tip of her tongue, ready to be confessed.

"Amanda, I think you need to see a doctor." When Olivia's quiet words shatter the heavy silence between them, she is immediately gripped by sheer panic at the prospect of a medical professional seeing her in this condition, and the likely ensuing consequences.

"No, that's not necessary," Amanda protests instantly, yanking her shirt back into place with enough force to make her wince again. "It was just a fall, Olivia, that's all. No one is hurting me, I promise."

"Your ribs could be broken," the older woman continues in a low tone, a hand coming up to flutter through Amanda's long blonde locks, sweeping a curtain of hair over her shoulder and then giving it a light squeeze. "You shouldn't be working in this condition."

"Well, since it's now the weekend, I won't have to worry about work until Monday," Amanda replies firmly, determined not to go any further down this road, chiding herself for letting Olivia see her like this and for even entertaining the thought of confiding in her colleage. "I'll be fine, Liv. You don't need to worry about me."

Amanda is stunned when the taller woman doesn't say another word but instead wraps strong arms around her back and pulls her into a tender embrace, holding her so delicately against her chest like she is a fragile piece of china in danger of shattering. Her eyes slip closed as she rests her head on Olivia's shoulder, shocked when she feels the pinprick of tears pushing at the inside of her eyelids, as despite how utterly wretched her life has become lately, she can't remember the last time she has actually cried; never shedding so much as a single tear in her intense and all-consuming misery.

This situation is completely foreign to Amanda; the waves of compassion and concern she can feel radiating from Olivia's warm body, and the somewhat disconcerting way that she wants to snuggle closer to her fellow detective instead of pulling away and fleeing the room. She is so used to dealing with things on her own and can't allow herself to become too attached; to risk putting her job in jeopardy and opening up to the one person she admires and looks up to more than any other, a person she _loves_.

Although Amanda is intent on ignoring any of the intense feelings that are steadily trying to break through her normally impenetrable facade, the electricity she feels thrumming just beneath the surface of her skin is undeniable; an unfamiliar sensation that has eluded her for the large majority of her life thus far but is rapidly enveloping her entire body as she stands there cocooned in Olivia's safe embrace.

For the first time in as long as she can remember, Amanda Rollins feels alive.


	2. Chapter 2

**Just a reminder that this story takes place in season 13 and is a different version of events. Frannie doesn't exist in this fic.**

 **Trigger warnings for mentions of rape, gambling addiction and alcohol abuse.  
**

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Amanda hasn't felt quite so conflicted for a very long time.

Olivia Benson is currently standing in the entryway of her apartment, the older detective's eyes roaming curiously around the sparse and untidy space, and Amanda can't decide if she is elated to have the woman of her dreams inside her home for the first time ever, or if she is regretting the continuation of their evening together. She decides that it's a combination of the two, as Amanda is torn between wanting Olivia to stay so she can soak up more of the unfamiliar but welcome comfort from the brunette, and feigning a sudden illness so she can get drunk alone without having to worry about embarrassing herself in front of someone she respects so much.

A man that bore a striking resemblance to her old deputy chief had sat down in the booth next to them when they were nearly finished with their dinner, and a meal that was already awkward to begin with due to Olivia's discovery and subsequent examination of Amanda's bruises in the restaurant bathroom, had swiftly become almost unbearable. After convincing Olivia that she didn't need to see a doctor, they had ordered big plates of spaghetti and garlic bread and made pleasant small talk while Amanda had surreptitiously eyed the selection of wine that was being advertised on a little plastic sign sitting on their table, sweat blooming on her forehead and heat prickling beneath her skin when the man had taken a seat beside them.

Amanda's brain had been thrown into immediate chaos as the memories of her time in Atlanta threatened to have her curling up into a protective ball underneath the table or making a run for it straight out the door, refusing to say what was wrong as she observed the stranger who shared a disconcerting amount of physical traits with a person she wanted to forget existed. Olivia had instantly picked up on her extreme discomfort, and Amanda's edgy demeanor coupled with her nasty wounds had prompted her colleague to ask if they could could extend their evening together when their supper was done.

Amanda had agreed to let Olivia come home with her for a cup of tea to settle their stomachs after such a large meal, and if this social event had been taking place under different circumstances and they were spending time with each other as friends or were on a date, she would have been thrilled to have this woman in her home and all to herself for the next few hours. But with the way things currently stand between them, this situation cannot be classified as either one of those scenarios, as it is merely a senior detective who is concerned for her younger co-worker's well being, and likely nothing more. They are not yet considered friends and are certainly nowhere close to being lovers, despite Amanda's very cautious and possibly ridiculous hope for things to eventually progress in that direction, and she is unsure if they will ever move past the stage of simply being colleagues even though Olivia is now in her apartment.

Amanda is painfully aware of the giant bottle of vodka sitting in plain sight on the kitchen counter, a hot blush creeping up her neck when she notices Olivia's gaze lingering on the colorless liquid, the other woman's expression as impassive as it had been when Amanda had announced she was gay. She thinks that she can detect a hint of something hiding within the depths of those dark chocolate pools, a certain knowledge or realization of sorts, before Olivia blinks and it is gone, and there is an uneasy feeling swirling in the pit of Amanda's stomach now. She has so many secrets to conceal; far too much baggage to even consider trying to move their relationship in a more friendly direction, and knows that things need to be kept on a professional level between them; or at least as much as they possibly can now that Olivia has seen her bruises.

"So you like vodka, huh?" Olivia comments casually as she takes off her shoes and shrugs out of her coat, inclining her head toward the alcohol and looking quite at home in Amanda's personal space as she takes a seat on the shabby sofa.

"Wow, you should be a detective," Amanda quips in a neutral tone as she sits down beside the taller woman and perches on the scruffy cushions in an apprehensive fashion.

"That's an awfully big bottle for just one person," Olivia observes offhandedly, and Amanda watches her gaze sweeping carefully around the small interior of the apartment like she is searching for something. "Were you planning on sharing it with someone?"

"No one else lives here, if that's what you're trying to ask, Olivia," Amanda replies with a roll of her eyes, gesturing around the otherwise empty space to indicate that they are indeed the only two people there and guessing the brunette still isn't convinced that she is not being hurt by someone. "I live by myself. And I already told you that I'm not dating anyone."

"Well, maybe you have someone coming over later?" Olivia's eyebrow is quirked slightly as they gaze intently at each other, the blush on Amanda's neck deepening and spreading up to encompass her pale cheeks at her co-worker's suggestion.

"And maybe you're just nosy," she shoots back, unable to rid herself of these conflicting emotions; at once annoyed by Olivia's intrusion into her personal business and grateful that she actually seems to care, a tiny part of her hoping that Olivia is jealous that she might have a companion coming over to spend the night. "You're the only person besides me who will be inside this apartment tonight. And you're only here because you invited yourself."

Amanda feels both smug and guilty as a matching blush is now decorating Olivia's face, and they sit there in a silent staring contest for several seconds before the older woman breaks the ice between them. "Look, I'm sorry for asking so many questions, okay? I guess it's just in my nature to ask about certain things, especially considering what we do for a living. And I just wanted to make sure you were going to be okay tonight."

"I'm fine," Amanda answers with a shrug, trying not to let on how uncomfortable she is both physically and emotionally, her midsection still pulsing with pain from her fall off the bar stool the previous night and the myriad of thoughts she is having about her colleague enough to make her head spin.

"Well, your ribs say otherwise," Olivia replies softly, Amanda stiffening slightly when the older woman places a gentle hand on her knee. "Are you going to tell me how you ended up with such a colorful array of bruises?"

"I already told you that I fell," Amanda says in a tight voice, pulling away from the tender touch even though she finds herself wanting to inch closer to Olivia on the couch. "I feel like I'm having to repeat myself a lot this evening."

"Those bruises must hurt quite a bit," the brunette responds quietly, gesturing to the blue silk blouse that is covering Amanda's wounds. "Have you put some ice on them? It might help to numb the pain."

Amanda's gaze drifts toward the large bottle of vodka on the kitchen counter, and she neglects to mention that she has other ways of numbing the pain; that sometimes she is so zoned into a game as she waits with both excitement and dread to see if her team will win, or she is so inebriated from the booze that remembering her own name is considered an accomplishment, and it makes her existence on this planet just a little bit easier to bear. When Amanda is able to forget about past events that have shaped her into the person she is now; when she is able to ignore reality for just a short while and lose herself in something that doesn't remind her of hot breath and groping hands and probing fingers, she doesn't care that she is destroying herself in the process.

"I put some ice on them before work," Amanda lies with a flippant wave of her hand, remembering she hadn't actually had time to try and soothe the injuries because she had awoken so late that morning. "But I can do it again right now."

"Don't get up," Olivia commands gently when Amanda makes a move to stand up from the couch and retrieve an ice pack from the freezer, the other woman striding right into her kitchen like she belongs there.

She feels the same mixture of vulnerability and comfort that she had experienced inside the restaurant bathroom when Olivia sits back down on the cushions beside her and motions for Amanda to lift her shirt, their bodies much closer to one another this time. She finds herself entranced by the brunette once more, tucking her blouse up to the edge of her bra so that Olivia can place the ice pack on her ribs and flinching sharply when the freezing cold object comes into contact with her bare skin.

As Olivia murmurs an unnecessary apology for the temperature of the ice, it occurs to Amanda that she has let her colleague view an uncovered part of her body twice in the same evening; Olivia the first person to see her this way since she had been with Patton. Those uncharacteristic tears are making a sudden reappearance behind her eyelids, Amanda becoming strangely emotional when she can't help but compare the two situations; the level of comfort she feels with Olivia verses the humiliation she had felt with her former superior. Amanda had willingly lifted her shirt for both her fellow detective and her deputy chief but had been forced to do so much more with him after changing her mind, and the two vastly different but slightly similar experiences are melding together in her brain in a whirlwind of emotions that cause her eyes to squeeze closed in an effort to keep the unwanted tears at bay.

"Are you alright?" Olivia asks softly, Amanda tensing momentarily when she feels a tender hand upon her knee again before relaxing when she reminds herself that it is just her colleague in the room with her and no one else. "Does it hurt?"

"Yeah, it does," she answers honestly, but is unsure if she is referring to the physical pain of her possibly cracked ribs or the emotional agony of what she had been made to endure back in Atlanta.

"How did you fall?" Olivia inquires in that same soothing tone Amanda has heard her use countless times with the victims they deal with on a daily basis. "Did you trip over something?"

As she gazes at the woman sitting so closely beside her, Olivia's huge dark eyes fixed steadily upon her and radiating with such compassion and concern, long wavy hair framing her beautiful face, Amanda is suddenly so tempted to confess everything that the words are right there on the tip of her tongue before she snaps her jaw shut again. "Yeah, I tripped," she mutters vaguely, losing her nerve and glancing away from that knowing gaze. "I lost my balance."

"Because you were drunk?"

The question that is spoken in a soft tone of voice without malice or judgment but with a strange undertone of something indefinable, causes Amanda's eyes to wrench upwards again and lock intensely onto the deep brown orbs staring back at her. She is caught so off-guard by Olivia's abrupt inquiry that she is briefly at a loss for words before nodding slowly and deciding that she can partially tell the truth while brushing off the severity of the situation.

"Well, yeah," she murmurs sheepishly, feeling that hot blush adorning her delicate features once again. "It was so stupid, really. I had too much to drink last night and slipped from my stool when I was standing up to leave the bar. I was just blowing off some steam after work, so it was no big deal."

"Why did you need to blow off some steam?" Olivia's voice is still quiet but there is a trace of firmness in her tone now, like she is treading carefully but intending to get to the bottom of the situation and figure out what is going on. "Did something happen at work yesterday that upset you? If I recall correctly, it was a pretty slow day; not much going on. Fin and Amaro were throwing spitballs at each other whenever Cragen's back was turned, just to liven things up a bit."

There is a twinkle in Olivia's eye and a slight smirk on her lips, like she is trying to get Amanda to loosen up and talk to her, and Amanda can't help but smile at the immature behavior of her male colleagues even while her stomach is turning somersaults. "It was just some personal stuff, Liv. I just wanted to forget about things for a little while."

"Do you do that often? Try to forget about things by drinking?"

"I don't really want to talk about this, okay?" Amanda's heart has begun to pound at a sickening speed inside her chest at Olivia's persistence with this conversation, and she swiftly pulls away from the gentle hand that is still resting on her knee.

The sharp movement causes a stab of pain to slice right through her ribs, Amanda stifling a cry and quickly turning her head to hide the tear that has broken free and is trailing a wet pathway down her cheek. She is stunned that this discussion and her injuries have induced the tears to actually fall, as she can't remember the last time she has cried; horrified to be falling apart in front of a woman she admires like no other and determined to pull herself together before she starts sobbing. The ice pack has fallen to the floor in Amanda's haste to get away, her shirt still riding up over her bare stomach and exposing the bright splotches of purple and blue that are scattered across her midsection, and the embarrassment that has enveloped her is overwhelming in its intensity.

"Hey, Amanda, it's okay. Just calm down, honey. Take it easy."

She comes to a swift halt on the cushions in the midst of her escape, aware that Olivia's hand is on her back now, the older woman's palm rubbing slow circles into the material of her wrinkled blouse. She feels gentle fingers smoothing over the top of her head and skimming down through her long blonde hair, before coming to rest on her shoulder and giving it a slight squeeze. They remain like that for a moment, Amanda breathing hard and trying to get ahold of herself while Olivia continues rubbing her back in a soothing manner.

She is quickly becoming lost in the other woman's tender ministrations, her throat tight with barely suppressed emotion, and Amanda doesn't trust herself to turn around; afraid that Olivia will see everything she is trying to hide if they look each other in the eye again. She inhales a shuddering breath in her struggle not to break down in Olivia's presence, a soft noise emitting from between her lips that sounds suspiciously like a strangled sob; the tidal wave of emotions that are crashing down upon her necessitating the need for something, anything at all, to make them stop.

"Olivia, I think it's time for you to go home," Amanda says in a tight voice, trying in vain to keep it from shaking when she speaks. "I've had a nice evening with you, but I'm really tired now and I think I'm just going to go to bed."

"Can you turn around and look at me?" She feels Olivia's hands at her sides, very gently tugging her shirt back into place so Amanda is no longer exposed. "I didn't mean to upset you so much with my questions. I'm so sorry. But I'm worried about how much pain you're in right now."

Amanda neglects to mention that the pain won't be lasting much longer because as soon as Olivia is out the door, she will be opening that bottle of vodka in the kitchen and drowning every last speck of physical and emotional hurt until there is absolutely nothing left to feel. She holds herself rigidly on the cushions as the older woman tries again to get her to turn around, and it is all Amanda can do not to lean backwards and melt into Olivia's embrace, the brunette's curvy figure hovering so close to her own smaller frame that all she has to do is move an inch in the other direction and their bodies will be melded together.

The simultaneous need for comfort and the urge to flee are so all-encompassing that for a moment Amanda can't decide which one she wants more, covering her eyes with her hands to prevent any further tears from emerging and speaking through a tightly clenched jaw. "Olivia, please just go. I really need to be alone, okay?"

"Amanda, I don't want to leave you like this." Olivia's silken voice is a whisper of worry in her ear, a shiver running down her spine at the sympathy and compassion that she is so unused to hearing. "I don't think you should be alone right now."

"I'm always alone, Liv." The words have left Amanda's mouth before she can stop them, chastising herself for continually blurting things out in front of the older woman that she would never even think to say to anyone else.

"Well, you don't have to be," Olivia replies quietly after a beat of silence between them. "Let me help you, Amanda."

"Don't you ever get tired of helping people?" Amanda's voice is weary when she answers, her shoulders slumping down in defeat and her head hanging in exhaustion. "You do it everyday at the precinct, Olivia. You shouldn't have to do it outside of work too. Don't you ever just want a break from everyone?"

"Not from you." Olivia's response is so soft that Amanda almost misses it, her heartbeat instantly quickening its pace again, and she can't interpret the exact context of the short sentence; admitting that it definitely sounds like more than just concern for a co-worker but unsure if it's crossing the boundary line from friends into something else.

"You barely even know me, Olivia," she mutters under her breath, feeling ridiculous for continuing on with this conversation while her back is still turned but unable to bring herself to face the other woman. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I think you're a good detective and an interesting person and I want to get to know you better." Olivia's answer is straightforward and surprising and the complete opposite of her typically closed-off personality, Amanda seeing a different side of the other woman that night and a warmth filling her heart before her usual shield goes up.

"Well, you shouldn't." Her voice is low and shamed as she blinks rapidly to hold back another flow of tears that seem determined to break loose, trying to ignore the fact that merely being in this woman's presence makes her feel more alive than she has ever felt before. "I'm better off alone and you're better off not getting too close, trust me on that. I'm damaged."

"I think we're all damaged in certain ways, but that doesn't necessarily mean we're better off alone." Olivia's hand is on her shoulder again, thumb stroking back and forth across the upper part of her arm, and despite the strong urge to do the opposite, Amanda shrugs away from the older woman's touch and gets to her feet.

"Well, _I_ am. I've fucked up every single relationship that I've ever had, no matter what the type; colleagues, friends, family, romance," Amanda spits out bitterly, blatantly honest when she speaks now and trying to avoid looking into those piercing eyes that she can feel trained so intently upon her. "There's something wrong with me, Liv."

She forces herself to stop talking before she can go any further, before she can admit that it would be absolutely devastating if she ended up losing Olivia in any capacity; as a co-worker or a friend or a lover, if things do end up progressing to that point. There is a small part of Amanda that wishes she had never come to New York in the first place, had never laid eyes on Olivia Benson in person because now she is completely hooked on the other woman; on her kindness and empathy and intelligence and beauty. Olivia is like no one else she has ever met before and Amanda is terrified that she won't be able to hold everything inside; that she will end up spilling her deepest, darkest secrets to her fellow detective and everything will be even worse than it already is.

There is something about her interactions with Olivia that make it seem like the older woman can read her thoughts; like she knows exactly what is going on in Amanda's private life or at least has some sort of clue, as if the brunette herself has had personal experience with the torment she is going through. There is a knowledge and vulnerability that seem to lurk just below the surface of their discussions, and although Amanda's curiosity and concern is piqued, she is very aware that she has to put a stop to all of this before it's too late and she reveals something that she can't take back.

"Why do you think there's something wrong with you, Amanda?" Olivia asks softly as she gets off the couch so they are standing side by side, Amanda walking swiftly towards the door and opening it wide, very conscious of how rude she is being after Olivia has been nothing but caring and sympathetic but desperately needing her to leave.

When Amanda doesn't reply right away and the silence drags on between them until it becomes incredibly awkward, Olivia finally seems to realize that she won't be getting an answer and is no longer welcome, slowly putting her jacket and shoes on while Amanda watches with a lump in her throat. She nods without speaking when the older woman tells her that she is available any time Amanda needs to talk, urging her to call if she needs help with anything over the weekend, particularly if the pain in her ribs gets worse. Those uncharacteristic tears are welling up in her eyes again as she watches Olivia walk away down the hall, the brunette turning around to flash a gentle and worried smile in her direction before disappearing into the stairwell, and there is only one thought in her brain now as she closes the door and heads into the kitchen.

Amanda doesn't feel conflicted anymore as she picks up the bottle of vodka and removes the lid, closing her eyes gratefully before tilting her head back and taking a giant gulp.


	3. Chapter 3

**I usually write an entire story from one character's point of view or I alternate back and forth from chapter to chapter, but this fic will be a bit different. I did the first two chapters from Amanda's point of view, so this chapter and the next one will be from Olivia's.**

 **Just a reminder that this is an alternate version of how season 13 might have gone; certain events that occurred on the show did not happen in this universe and I have also added some other ones.**

 **I wanted to say a big thank you to starie78 for suggesting that Amanda goes out drinking on Saturday night and a bartender has to end up phoning Olivia for her – I loved that idea and used it for this chapter. :)**

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Olivia Benson is on a date.

She had forgotten all about accepting this invitation to dinner with her next door neighbor, and had only been reminded after sharing an elevator ride back up to their floor earlier in the day when she had been loaded down with grocery bags and he had helped her inside. Mike Daniels is a very cute if somewhat bland accountant that she gets along with quite well; watching the occasional movie together or having a meal, a friendship developing between them after striking up a conversation with each other in the lobby one day.

Part of the appeal of agreeing to go on a date with the man who had moved in beside her several months prior is that he has absolutely no affiliation with the NYPD, and Olivia has found it a breath of fresh air to take a break from that part of her life and get to know someone whose existence is entirely different from her own. Mike deals with numbers instead of rape, and it is a relief to not have every single one of their conversations revolving around victims and perpetrators and the grotesque cases that Olivia and her fellow squad members are embroiled in on a daily basis. There is an element of boredom to their interactions that she finds strangely appealing, as the rest of her life is anything _but_ boring; continually jumping from one chaotic situation to the next without a break in between.

Today has been no exception to the usual torment and disorder of Olivia's life, and Saturday night out at the new Greek restaurant that has just opened right near their building is a good way to distract herself from the hole that her former partner has left in her heart and the confusing feelings she has for her new co-worker. Elliot Stabler and Amanda Rollins are front and center in her mind the majority of the time now, both of them residing there for the past few months and dominating nearly every waking thought that she has, although the latter has been pushing the former over to the side more often than not.

Olivia had mistakenly thought that spending an evening with Mike would quell the constant worry she has had for Amanda that day, but her concern for the younger woman has actually increased the longer they have been apart. Leaving her colleague alone in her apartment with nothing but a giant bottle of vodka for company the previous night is turning out to be one the hardest things Olivia has ever had to do, along with refraining from calling or texting Amanda throughout the day. After being dismissed without explanation from her co-worker's home in the middle of an unsettling discussion, Olivia has chosen to back off and wait for Amanda to come to her, if that is how she decides to proceed with things.

They still don't know each other that well, as the younger woman hasn't been in New York for very long, and Olivia feels like she needs to toe the line between completely ignoring her and providing a listening ear; finding a happy medium between the two. It had taken her a little while to acknowledge Amanda on a more personal level and begin warming up to her, as she has been so wrapped up in the loss of Elliot; but the more Olivia takes the time to observe her, the more intrigued she is. Amanda Rollins is a compelling blend of tough and vulnerable, her stunning beauty not downplayed in the least by her laid-back style of dress and the way she wears her hair up in a loose bun; the blonde detective extremely good at what she does for a living, especially for someone so young.

Once she had begun taking more of an interest in the other woman, Olivia had started to notice some odd behavioral traits that had piqued her concern and held her attention; traits that would most likely be overlooked by someone who wasn't watching quite as closely. She hadn't meant to do that; to start observing Amanda so intently, but there is something about the younger woman that both captivates her and causes a certain amount of alarm to radiate from within, recognizing that although Amanda has been doing a decent job of hiding something that she doesn't want anyone else to see, her efforts aren't quite good enough to escape her own notice.

"Hello, earth to Olivia Benson."

Olivia's dark eyes jerk upward to see Mike waving a hand in front of her face, one bushy eyebrow quirked in both an amused and impatient manner. She realizes that her gaze has been lingering on her phone as she thinks about Amanda, the device perched on the tabletop next to her dinner plate since she is on call this weekend and needs to answer right away if it rings.

"Sorry about that, Mike. I just drifted off there for a second," she says sheepishly, running a hand through her thick dark curls and resolving to stop staring at her phone as if willing Amanda to communicate with her in some form.

"It was more than a second, Liv," he replies keenly, reaching over to cover one of her hands with his own and giving it a brief squeeze. "You've been zoned out since we left our building. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm just a little preoccupied with work at the moment," Olivia answers smoothly, figuring it's not a total lie since Amanda is a colleague. "What were we talking about again?"

"I wanted to know what you thought of the food. Pretty good, wasn't it?" Mike gestures down to the remnants of their meal, his voice emanating with more enthusiasm as he continues speaking. "Are you up for some dessert?"

"I'm not really that hungry anymore but if you want to order some, go ahead," Olivia responds absently, feeling a hint of guilt for not being entirely mentally present during their date but unable to drag her thoughts away from Amanda.

As if she has conjured the other woman up just by thinking about her, the phone suddenly begins to ring shrilly and the name _Amanda Rollins_ is flashing across the screen, Olivia immediately snatching the device up with fumbling fingers and holding it to her ear.

"So I guess that's the end of the date, huh?" Mike asks in disappointment, his shoulders slumping down as he leans back dejectedly in his seat. "You getting called in?"

"It's not work," Olivia murmurs distractedly, although she is pretty sure their date will be coming to an end anyway, as she doesn't think this phone call will signify anything but trouble.

"Hello?" she says with a combination of relief and trepidation, covering her other ear so that she can hear properly in the crowded restaurant; glad that Amanda has chosen to reach out to her but nervous as to what the circumstances are.

"Hi, is this Olivia?"

"Yes, it is," she replies with a frown, surprised to hear the deep male voice on the other end of the line, along with the blaring of a television and the din of conversation in the background. "Who's this?"

"This is Mickey Clark. I'm a bartender at the Dark Horse. I have an Amanda Rollins here with me right now." There is a trace of a British accent in the man's voice, his friendly tone indicating concern.

"Okay..." Olivia's voice trails off as there is an instant spike in the worry that has already been simmering inside for the entire day. "What's going on? Is she alright?"

"Well, I don't think she's feeling any pain right now," the man chuckles wryly as he clears his throat. "She's practically passed out over the top of my bar here and I'm going to need someone to come pick her up."

"Okay, not a problem, I can do that," Olivia answers briskly as she begins getting to her feet, trying to ignore the crestfallen expression on Mike's face as she tosses a few bills onto the table. "I'll be there as soon as I can." She pauses for a moment as Mike stands up beside her, looking like he wants to help. "Just out of curiosity, how did you come across my name?"

"When she started getting really drunk and sloppy, I asked if there was anyone I could call for her, and she passed me her phone after mentioning someone named Olivia," Mickey explains patiently, the noise level rising in volume on his end. "Frankly, I was just relieved that we were able to avoid the same situation as the other night. We had to kick her out of here for her belligerent behavior and because she couldn't even sit upright on her stool."

Olivia sighs quietly as Mickey keeps talking, briefly overcome by painful memories of her past but pushing them away so she can concentrate on what he is saying. "I try to look out for her when she's in here, but my boss doesn't like the gambling and the screaming, and she always seems to attract an unsavory element, so he doesn't enjoy having her as a customer. Some of the regular assholes like to hit on her and she usually responds in a physical way, either punching or kicking if they're slow to take no for an answer, but sometimes she just sits there, frozen and scared. It's never a good scene. She's pretty close to being banned for life in here."

Olivia takes in this information with a mixture of emotions, none of which she lets show on her face as she thanks the bartender for looking out for Amanda and promises again to be there as soon as she can, a bit mystified that Amanda has requested her help after the way things had ended between them the previous night. She motions for Mike to follow her outside into the darkness, as they had taken his car to the restaurant and she is pretty sure that she is going to need his help once she arrives at the bar, explaining the situation during their short walk to his vehicle. He is surprisingly agreeable to transporting Olivia across town and driving Amanda back to her own place once they pick her up, despite having the rest of their evening ruined; and she acknowledges with an unfurling warmth inside her chest that although he may be a little dull, Mike is one of the good guys.

It takes far longer than Olivia would like for them to work their way through the usual Saturday night traffic, the honking of horns and the squealing of brakes ringing in her ears when they screech to a stop outside the bar, her patience wearing very thin. After pushing their way through a crowd of inebriated patrons milling about on the sidewalk and more of them congregating in a giant knot right at the entrance, she spots a familiar figure slumped over the bar, a waterfall of long blonde hair spilling over the shoulder of a pink plaid shirt.

"Hey, Amanda, I'm here to take you home, honey," Olivia says softly into the younger woman's ear when they reach Amanda's stool, grabbing the jacket that is slipping off her lap and rubbing her hand up and down a slim back to try and stir her fellow detective from her drunken stupor. "You need to wake up."

She nods gratefully to the stout young man behind the bar who she assumes is Mickey, getting a nod and a smile in return as he serves one of the other customers in the bustling establishment. Sleepy and confused blue eyes are peering up at her from a fringe of long lashes and a curtain of golden tresses, Olivia stroking her hand over a flushed pink cheek to further rouse Amanda from her booze-induced fog.

"Liv?" The voice is soft and slurred, Amanda reaching out a shaky hand like she is intending on touching Olivia's cheek in return, before her arm drops back down to hang limply at her side. "What're you doin' here?"

"I'm here to take you home," Olivia repeats gently, looping her arms as carefully as she can around Amanda's midsection with the intention of helping the younger woman to her feet while being mindful of her injuries. "Come on sweetheart, I need you to stand up for me, okay?"

"Who the hell is this guy?" Amanda mumbles in return, jerking a thumb towards Mike who is hovering uncertainly nearby with his hands tucked into the front pockets of his trousers.

"This is Mike Daniels, my date," Olivia replies in a raised tone to be heard above the noise, a strange feeling of regret tugging at her heart as she says the words and notices the brief shadow that passes over Amanda's face before the other woman lets out a loud burst of laughter.

"Well, shit, Liv, this is kinda awkward, isn't it? Talk about being a third wheel."

Amanda seems to be quite amused with the situation, although there is an undercurrent of sadness and embarrassment lurking beneath the mirth, her eyes raking critically up and down Mike's tall form like she is judging his worthiness. When Mike reaches out a hand in order to be of some assistance, Amanda is immediately cringing away and tucking herself into Olivia's side with a strangled gasp, burrowing her face into Olivia's neck.

"Don't touch me!" she squeaks in a panicked voice that is muffled by thick dark hair, Olivia's arms closing around the quivering form in a protective fashion.

"He's just going to help me get you out to the car, okay?" Olivia soothes in surprise, holding Amanda close as the smaller woman clings to her. "He's going to drive us to your place and then I'm going to stay with you for the rest of the evening, okay?"

"Nooo," Amanda moans into her shoulder, her voice radiating with blatant fear now. "I don't want to get in the car with him, Liv."

"Honey, we have no other way of getting you home. I don't feel comfortable taking you in a cab by myself when you're this unsteady," Olivia explains patiently, her arms tightening around Amanda at this rare and disconcerting display of neediness and anxiety. "He's a good guy, I promise."

Their conversation is interrupted by Mike suddenly getting shoved aside as a larger, beefier man in a football jersey and ripped jeans take his place, arms crossing over his chest and an offended glare leveled right at Amanda. "So is this why you keep saying no to me, Mandy?" he snarls in derision, inclining a head full of dark curls toward Olivia. "Is this hot piece of ass your girlfriend? You could still do better with me, in my opinion. You just need a big dick to satisfy you."

"Then I guess I won't be satisfied by yours," Amanda shoots right back, the man's eyes widening in response and a dark red flush creeping up his flabby neck.

"What the hell did you just say to me, you little bitch?" he snarls in reply, lunging toward them while Mike springs forward to grab his arm and Olivia whirls away with Amanda folded securely into her embrace, herding the younger woman toward the door as quickly as possible.

"Back off! You touch her and I'm pressing charges," she snaps angrily over her shoulder, watching as Mike does his best to hold the man at bay and talk him down so she can get Amanda safely outside, not wanting this situation to explode into something that will have to be dealt with at the precinct.

It takes a few minutes to get maneuvered properly into the car, Olivia climbing into the backseat with Amanda after convincing her to get inside the vehicle, and Mike's breathing slightly labored as he takes his place behind the wheel. She is extremely relieved that the drunken man in the sports bar has calmed down somewhat and not given chase as they pull away from the curb and rejoin the traffic that is crawling through the city streets at a snail's pace, Olivia giving directions since Amanda is unable to do so.

Amanda is huddled against the opposite door, blonde head resting against the window and heavy eyelids continually drooping closed as she struggles to keep them open. She looks so tiny and vulnerable in that position, curled into herself in a protective manner and holding her ribs like they still hurt, and Olivia can't help sliding over into the middle seat so they are sitting closer to one another, draping Amanda's jacket over her shuddering body.

"Are you in pain?" she asks quietly, the outside of her thigh pressing into Amanda's as she watches her nod in response. "Do you want to put some more ice on your ribs when we get back to your place?"

Amanda shrugs one shoulder in return, Olivia noticing cerulean eyes drifting upwards to focus warily on the back of Mike's head as he navigates them through the traffic and wisely chooses to keep silent as the women converse. She grasps onto Amanda's small hand and threads their fingers together, giving a reassuring squeeze; taking note of the other woman's physical and emotional discomfort and wanting to do everything she can to put her at ease, despite the haunting memories of her own past that are now resurfacing.

"It's okay, honey, you're safe with us," Olivia murmurs in a low voice so Mike doesn't overhear, her thumb stroking in slow circles over the back of Amanda's hand. "Can you tell me what happened in there? Was that guy harassing you tonight?"

Amanda nods again after a slight pause, Olivia blinking in surprise when she shifts even closer on the seat and a tousled blonde head comes to rest on her shoulder. She can see Mike's eyes fixed inquisitively on them in the rearview mirror, the frequent streetlights illuminating the dark interior of the vehicle, and her stomach twists with guilt when she meets his gaze. Despite how big of a help he has been that night, she can't help wishing that she was alone with Amanda in this moment, for too many reasons to count.

The younger woman's intense vulnerability coupled with the fact that Olivia is snuggled up with her female co-worker in the backseat of her date's car while he drives them to Amanda's apartment building, is both very concerning and extremely awkward. She can admit that while Mike has become a good friend and she really enjoys his company, she just doesn't see a future with him in the romantic sense; Olivia refusing to contemplate her feelings towards Amanda other than acknowledging the worry that a senior detective might have while protecting her younger colleague.

"I don't like when he calls me Mandy," Amanda whispers into her ear, the other woman smelling of alcohol and cigarettes and coconut shampoo.

"The guy who was bothering you in the bar?" Olivia confirms softly, tightening her hold on Amanda when she feels a shiver wracking the small frame and feeling her jump slightly when Mike clears his throat in the front seat. "It's okay, honey."

She meets Mike's gaze in the mirror again, and this time there is a deep frown creasing his forehead at what she assumes is the close proximity of her body to Amanda's, but Olivia refuses to let go while her colleague is in a state she has never seen her in before; drunk and clingy and frightened.

"We like to drink and watch the game in the same bar, so we started getting to know each other a bit." Amanda's voice is slurred when she speaks again, her head heavy on Olivia's shoulder. "But he's mean and aggressive and is always hitting on me, even though he knows I'm gay. And he calls me Mandy."

"Why don't you like that nickname?" Olivia prods gently, caressing a flushed cheek to keep the other woman awake.

"Because Charlie used to call me that."

"Who's Charlie?"

"We were Mandy and Charlie when we were together outside of work because he didn't want us to use formalities with each other." Amanda's voice is barely audible now as she stumbles over her words, Olivia's brow furrowing in confusion at this explanation but she doesn't get any more than that as the other woman falls silent.

"Am I even going the right way here?" Mike's tight voice is suddenly piercing the quiet of the car, Olivia feeling Amanda flinch against her once again and wishing she could do something to soothe her nerves. "I'm not very familiar with the neighborhood you directed me to."

"Yeah, you're going the right way. We're almost there," Olivia responds wearily, very aware that the tension in the small space has ratcheted up to nearly epic proportions the longer they are all in the same car together, the uncomfortable atmosphere seeming to permeate every square inch of the vehicle.

She doesn't blame Mike for not being in the best of spirits anymore, as their date night has turned into a bit of a disaster, but Amanda is her first priority at the moment and she can't concentrate on her neighbor's hurt feelings or jealously right now. Her mind is whirling with all of the things that have to be said; everything she needs to talk about with Amanda, but understanding that they will not be able to have a coherent conversation about anything that night.

When they pull to a stop in front of Amanda's building, the younger woman is nearly asleep on Olivia's shoulder, their bodies melded together and their fingers entwined, noticing how Mike tosses them another puzzled and irritated glance as he gets out of the vehicle in preparation to help. Olivia anticipates a problem before he even opens the door on Amanda's side of the car, her fellow detective jerking in reaction to the noise and letting out a short whimper of fear, quickly holding up a hand to indicate that Mike needs to step back for a moment.

"Amanda, we just got to your place, honey, so we're going to help you upstairs, if that's okay with you," she explains gently to the inebriated woman, wondering what had taken place in the past for her to be displaying such an uncharacteristic amount of terror in the present. "Remember I told you that Mike was my date tonight and he's just here to help? I don't know if I can get you up to your apartment by myself. You're pretty unsteady on your feet and I'm worried about you being injured even more than you already are."

"Why did you go on a date with him?" Amanda murmurs in response, Olivia's eyebrows raising in surprise at this question as she watches Mike pacing back and forth a few feet away.

"Because he's a nice guy and we get along well and I like him," she answers softly, smoothing Amanda's hair out of her face so they can see each other better. "Why are you asking me that?"

"I don't know," the smaller woman whispers with a shrug of her shoulders, Olivia's heart aching when she sees the gleam of tears in those big blue eyes and wondering what Amanda isn't saying. "I'm sorry I ruined your fun night, Liv."

"You didn't ruin my fun," Olivia assures her honestly, although she is fairly certain that she can't say the same for Mike. "I'll go out on other dates. It's not that big of a deal. I'm more concerned with how you're doing right now."

As she sits there in the darkened interior of the vehicle, holding on tightly to her drunk co-worker and gazing into the pained expression on Amanda's face, she can barely admit to herself just how true those words actually are; that the interruption of her evening with Mike really isn't that big of a deal at all.

Olivia's heart begins to pound with the acknowledgment that she would much rather spend time with Amanda in any kind of situation than go out on a date with anyone else.


	4. Chapter 4

**Just a reminder that I'm doing things a bit differently with this story, as the first two chapters were written from Amanda's point of view, but the previous chapter as well as this one were written from Olivia's. The next chapter will be back to Amanda's point of view.**

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Olivia can't remember the last time she has felt quite this awkward.

The elevator in Amanda's building feels even more claustrophobic and uncomfortable than the inside of Mike's car had on their trip here from the sports bar, the three of them crammed together into the tiny, sweltering box that groans and rocks rather alarmingly as they ascend to the younger woman's floor. She had taken this elevator with Amanda after their dinner the previous night and had been so uneasy with the torturously slow process of the ancient machine, getting the sense that they were going to drop suddenly and plummet to their deaths, that she had wisely chosen to take the stairs on her way back down.

That apprehensive feeling is only being made worse by the fact that her colleague is currently plastering herself so closely into the front of Olivia's body that they might actually have merged into a single human being, and her date is standing beside them with his arms crossed and an eyebrow arched. Mike is staring a hole right through their entwined forms, his gaze appearing to be a combination of jealously, confusion and exasperation, and Olivia is guessing that he has gotten much more than he had bargained for after agreeing to pick Amanda up.

"Is she going to be okay?" he asks wearily, gesturing to Amanda's quivering figure and sighing slightly when the younger woman lets out a squeak of terror in response and presses herself impossibly closer to Olivia. "Why is she so scared of me?"

"I don't know," Olivia replies honestly in answer to the first question, but choosing not to address the second as she strokes a soothing hand through Amanda's hair. "I hope she'll be okay once she sobers up a bit."

"Liv, can I give you some friendly advice?" Mike says in a confidential tone, lowering his voice as if Amanda won't be able to hear their discussion if he speaks quietly enough, even though she is standing right next to them.

"And what advice would that be?" Olivia responds tightly, beginning to regret having him accompany them upstairs in case Amanda has needed more support in staying on her feet; his presence starting to grate on her nerves and feeling guilt-ridden for the obvious fear that it's causing the other woman.

"My advice would be not to go down this road with her," Mike continues softly, his green eyes shining brightly with earnestness and concern but Olivia bristling at his words nonetheless. "I overheard your conversation with the bartender on the phone, okay? And I saw the way she behaved in the bar. She's obviously an alcoholic with gambling and anger issues, and it's just not worth it, Liv. Trust me, I've been in this situation before and people like her never get better. They're nothing but mean and selfish human beings, and they suck away every last ounce of your energy and sanity. She's just a co-worker. And one who seems to be a little too attached to you, I might add. She's not worth it."

A large lump has taken up residence inside of Olivia's throat and she finds herself on the verge of tears as she listens to what her neighbor is saying, his words hitting way too close to home as memories from the past are suddenly threatening to drown her. Amanda has gone rigid in her arms and she knows the younger woman is not quite as out of it as she appears to be, since she is obviously listening; Olivia wanting to protect her from the harsh opinions of her date. The gravity of Mike's words are weighing down heavily upon her like that of a physical object, as she knows better than most what it's like to walk beside someone on their long and twisty road of addiction; her own journey only made that much worse by not having a choice in the matter.

Olivia acknowledges that she _does_ have a choice here; that she is an adult now and can choose to walk away before she gets in any deeper than she already has, leaving Amanda to carry on with her own life and deal with her personal demons while she does the same. Only a few short months ago, she had been partners with Elliot Stabler and hadn't even known that Amanda Rollins existed; her world entirely different than it is now. They don't really know each other that well yet, and the small amount of time that Olivia has spent with her colleague outside of work has conjured up many unpleasant memories of the past; memories that she would do anything to forget.

That alone should be enough to put the brakes on this burgeoning friendship or whatever their relationship is turning into; a valid excuse for Olivia to back off entirely and return to her usual days of fighting for victims and mourning the loss of Elliot without having this woman on her mind constantly. But there is something that keeps her feet planted firmly right where they are; a need to be closer to Amanda and provide some comfort and support, instead of pulling away and fleeing to save herself.

Olivia is furious with Mike for talking about Amanda like she is not even here; for bringing all of these delicate and private subject matters to attention when the younger woman is at her absolute lowest and can barely speak up to defend herself. Any hint of sympathy and understanding that she might feel toward him for having walked in her shoes and sharing the agony of a loved one's addiction is overwhelmed by anger and disgust, wanting nothing more than to exit this elevator with Amanda and be free of him.

Her relief is palpable when they finally come to a stop on Amanda's floor and begin the slow process of guiding her safely down the hall to her apartment, Olivia muttering under her breath that they are fine and Mike doesn't need to be here with them anyone. He insists on accompanying them to the door of Amanda's place, still appearing eager to be of some assistance despite what he has just said, and Olivia grudgingly agrees when Amanda loses her balance and almost goes tumbling to the floor before they are able to catch and steady her.

It takes a few minutes to peel the smaller woman away from her body and get her settled on the couch, Amanda still seeming to quake with fear at the close proximity of the opposite sex, and Olivia promising that she will return after saying goodnight to Mike. Keeping Amanda in her peripheral vision as they hover in the nearby doorway, she bids a terse goodbye to the older man and an unenthusiastic thank you for helping them; ducking out of his reach when he holds his hand toward her.

"Can I see you again, Liv?" Mike asks tentatively, Olivia stifling an incredulous snort at this request. "It would be nice if we got to finish our date at some point soon."

"I don't think that will be happening," she replies stiffly, throwing a glance at Amanda's slumped form on the sofa before briefly turning her back on the blonde detective and lowering her voice. "I have to admit that I'm a little confused here, Mike. You overheard what the bartender said about Amanda's drinking and gambling and the way she chooses to deal with the men who hit on her, and that obviously upset you, but you still agreed to drive me across town to pick her up. So what was with that whole speech in the elevator, warning me about her? It seems like you developed some kind of problem with her on the way over here."

"Well, can you blame me, Liv?" Mike hisses quietly, his eyes darting quickly over to Amanda before fixing on Olivia again. "I do have _some_ compassion for people in her situation, but when she's all over my date in the backseat of my car, I tend to take issue with that. And I heard her mention she's gay, so that doesn't make me feel any better about things. Was she trying to make a move on you?"

"She's _drunk_ , Mike," Olivia sighs in frustration and annoyance, wanting this conversation to be done so she can get back to Amanda. "She needed some comfort and I was giving it to her, that's all. And if two women being in such close physical contact makes you feel threatened, then I suggest you leave right now because it's likely to continue very shortly. She's upset and scared and if she wants to be held, then that's what I'm going to do."

Before Mike can respond, Olivia hears a noise behind her and whirls around to see Amanda staggering into the kitchen toward the same giant bottle of vodka that had been sitting on the counter the other night. "We're done here," she snaps curtly, an edge of alarm and finality in her tone. "I'm busy."

"Fine. Good luck, Liv." Mike throws up his hands in surrender and whirls on his heel, the words barely out of his mouth before Olivia is slamming the door shut and rushing into the kitchen.

"Whoa there, I think you've had enough for tonight, honey," she advises firmly, Olivia reaching out to grasp onto both of Amanda's arms as she makes a clumsy attempt to grab for the vodka.

"No such thing," Amanda mutters drunkenly, swaying on her feet and prompting Olivia to wrap a steadying arm around her waist while leading her back over to the couch. "It's never enough."

"You're going to get alcohol poisoning with that attitude," she warns softly, settling the smaller woman onto the cushions and sitting down beside her.

"So what?"

"So you might die." Olivia's eyebrows pull together in a deep frown at Amanda's flippant response to such a serious situation, a stab of pain piercing her heart at the blonde detective's next words.

"Well, I don't feel alive most of the time anyway, so what does it matter?" Amanda's unfocused blue eyes meet her own sharp brown gaze, the younger woman looking as if she is about to say something else but abruptly falling silent.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Amanda," Olivia whispers with great sincerity, gently swiping golden hair away from a flushed face. "I'm sorry you've been having such a hard time with things." She pauses for a moment and peers intently at her colleague. "When _do_ you feel alive? When you're drinking or gambling?"

Amanda shakes her head slowly, leaning into Olivia's touch as she continues to caress a soothing hand over her rumpled hair. "They just distract me, numb me."

"From what?" Olivia prods gently, scratching her fingernails lightly against Amanda's scalp.

"From life," the other woman answers simply with a shrug of her shoulders, the anguish in her expression more than Olivia can bear as her hand drops away and she closes the tiny gap between them, taking Amanda into her arms.

They are quiet for several minutes as they sit there snuggled together on the cushions, Amanda's face buried in her neck once again and Olivia careful not to hold the fragile form of her colleague too tightly, even though all she wants to do is wrap Amanda up in her firm embrace and never let go. Comforting others has always come very naturally to Olivia and the intense vulnerability that Amanda is giving off, combined with some of the things she has learned about her tonight, is just inducing more of a need to provide the younger woman with what she seems to be lacking in life.

Amanda is much more readily accepting of her comfort now than she is while sober, Olivia feeling the weight of the slight form that is cuddled against her sinking even deeper into her body. There is an overwhelming need to protect this woman from coming to any more harm than she already has, Olivia getting the sinking sensation that Amanda has been through an extreme amount of pain in the course of her short lifetime. She knows there is still so much to learn about her co-worker, one layer at a time being peeled away and revealing more about who Amanda is underneath that generally tough exterior, and Olivia resolves to be there for her in any way that she can.

Aware that she shouldn't be pushing things while Amanda is in this condition but curious as to something that was just said, Olivia leans down to get a better look at the beautiful face tucked into neck. "You told me that you don't feel alive _most_ of the time," she says softly, seeking to provide some hope and assurance for the other woman in such a bleak situation. "So what does make you feel alive, hmm? What makes you happy, honey?"

Olivia is shocked by Amanda's reaction to this question, the younger woman immediately going very red in the face and pulling away from her unexpectedly, Olivia reaching out to grab her arm when she almost slips off the couch and onto the floor. Amanda is averting her gaze now, her lower lip trembling like she is embarrassed and about to burst into tears because of it, Olivia very unused to seeing this version of her co-worker; Amanda so bumbling and flustered and unsure.

"Hey, hey, calm down," she admonishes gently, carefully getting Amanda situated properly on the cushions again without causing further pain to her ribs. "Why did that question upset you so much?"

"I- I really like spending time with you, Liv," Amanda stutters out, pink-cheeked with mortification and sounding slightly breathless with shame.

"I like spending time with you too," Olivia replies in confusion, that deep frown creasing her features again as it takes her a moment to understand what is going on here; to realize that Amanda has just answered her question and the two of them spending time together is what makes the younger woman feel alive.

Olivia's breath catches in her throat at this stunning admission and she feels hot tears pricking quite suddenly at her eyelids, overcome with a wave of emotion that she tries to swallow back; those perplexing and complicated feelings that she has for colleague making a swift reappearance. Amanda has stopped with her nervous squirming on the cushions and is sitting there in silence again as she stares at Olivia with those hazy cerulean orbs, her gaze surprisingly intense for someone so inebriated.

"We can start spending more time together, if that's what you'd like, Amanda," she says gently, reaching out to clasp her hand and entwining their fingers together. "I'm glad it makes you happy. I want us to be friends."

"Mike doesn't want you to be my friend," Amanda mutters bitterly, long blonde hair obscuring her expression as she lowers her head.

"Fuck Mike," Olivia responds vehemently, surprising them both with the unusual bad language and the amount of venom that is dripping from her tongue.

"Is that what you're gonna do?" Amanda whispers anxiously, blue eyes huge as she raises her head and they lock gazes again. "Fuck him?"

Olivia can't help but chuckle softly at the wide-eyed innocence of her drunken colleague, reaching out to ruffle her hair affectionately. "No, Amanda, I'm not going to do that. Not that it would be any of your business if I did," she adds wryly, rolling her eyes at such a personal question but feeling the strange need to make it clear to Amanda that she will never be engaging in any kind of sexual activity with her neighbor.

The younger woman's mouth opens like she is going to respond to what Olivia has just said before her jaw snaps closed again, seeming to think better of it. Olivia's eyebrow quirks slightly as she wonders what exactly is going on in Amanda's mind, but deciding to ask a question of her own that has been niggling at the back of her brain.

"Why were you scared of Mike?" she says quietly, giving their joined hands a comforting squeeze. "Did he do something that bothered you? And I mean before he said those awful things in the elevator, which I'm very sorry for."

"I don't like people taking my clothes off when I'm drunk."

Amanda's answer puzzles Olivia yet again, as she feels like she is having trouble understanding some of the twists and turns their conversations are taking that night and always seeming to be a step behind; reminding herself that she shouldn't be delving too deeply into certain subjects just yet but unable to stop herself from continuing. "Is that what you thought he was going to do?"

Amanda shrugs and bites her lip, the smaller woman's thumb scraping back and forth across Olivia's hand as she traces wobbly circles on her skin. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Why did you think he was going to do that?" Olivia presses gently, knowing that Mike certainly has his flaws but had not behaved in any way that could be considered inappropriate, in terms of physically or sexually. "Has someone taken your clothes off without your consent while you've been drinking?"

"Charlie."

The name that Amanda had mentioned earlier in the car is uttered almost inaudibly under her breath, the other woman once again neglecting to elaborate at all with any kind of details or explanation on the subject. Olivia is torn, wanting to know who Charlie is but afraid of pushing any more than she already has in a situation where Amanda is not quite herself, and deciding on a happy medium instead.

"I want you to know that you can talk to me about Charlie anytime you want to, okay?" she replies softly, watching as Amanda's eyelids flutter like they are too heavy to keep open. "Or anything else, for that matter. Anytime you need to talk, I'm here for you, alright?"

Amanda nods slowly and doesn't verbally respond, her chin drooping down toward her chest in exhaustion as her grip on Olivia's hand loosens somewhat.

"You look really tired, honey," Olivia observes gently, knowing she has to tread very carefully with what she is about to suggest, as she doesn't want Amanda to take it the wrong way and feel unsafe. "Is it okay if I help you to bed?"

Amanda nods again and holds her arms out to Olivia like a sleepy toddler asking to be picked up, Olivia's heart melting as she folds the younger woman tenderly into her embrace and gingerly guides them both into a standing position. They shuffle into the bedroom with halting steps, Amanda still quite unsteady on her feet despite her ability to carry on more of a coherent conversation, and Olivia feeling a bit unsure of how to proceed with things from here.

"I don't want to make you upset or scare you in any way, especially considering what we just talked about, but do you need some help getting changed?" Olivia inquires softly, guessing that it's going to be uncomfortable for her co-worker to sleep in the rumpled plaid shirt and jeans she is currently wearing.

"You don't scare me, Liv," Amanda says very quietly as clumsy fingers start fumbling with the buttons on her top, the garment falling away from her shoulders and slipping down her arms to pool onto the floor.

Olivia's breath is catching in her throat again for many different reasons as she stares at the gorgeous form of her colleague, Amanda clad in a white lace bra that perfectly hugs her slim, toned frame; the bruises across her midsection standing out starkly against her pale skin. Another set of wounds encircling both of Amanda's upper arms are catching Olivia's attention now and tearing her thoughts away from how utterly stunning the other woman is; taking a step forward and brushing her fingers very lightly over the smattering of bruises.

"Oh my god, Amanda, what's going on here?" she breathes in concern, noticing the shiver that her touch seems to induce. "How many times have you fallen? Or did someone grab you? These look like fingerprints."

"Sometimes the guys at the bar get a little rough when I turn them down," Amanda mumbles offhandedly as she unzips her jeans and begins tugging the pants over her hips and down her legs with uncoordinated movements, revealing underwear that matches her bra. "But don't worry, Liv, I give as good as I get."

"I don't doubt that for a second," Olivia says seriously, having witnessed Amanda's ability to handle herself with suspects twice her size and feeling a twinge of pride piercing through the overwhelming worry. "But if you are being physically injured by any of those men at the bar, we can put a stop to it. We can press charges. You shouldn't be treated that way."

She thinks back to the altercation that had taken place earlier in the evening with the large man who seemed to think Olivia was Amanda's girlfriend but that she should submit to him anyway, despite being gay. A swell of anger and protectiveness rises inside as she watches the smaller woman swipe a long T-shirt off the floor and pull it over her head, Olivia reaching out to help guide her arms through the sleeves and Amanda's long blonde hair standing on end when the top is tugged into place.

Her fellow detective wobbles there in front of Olivia on shaking legs, swallowed up by a shirt that looks at least two sizes too big; the complete opposite of what everyone else usually sees at the precinct and out in the field, Olivia being afforded a rare glimpse into her private life. Amanda doesn't say anything in response to Olivia's suggestion of charging anyone who is hurting her at the bar, appearing dead on her feet as she sways with inebriation and exhaustion, and Olivia stepping forward to guide Amanda gently toward the bed.

"Come on, honey, let's get you tucked in," she murmurs tenderly, helping Amanda get settled beneath the covers and blinking in surprise when the other woman's fingers are suddenly gripping her wrist tightly.

"Don't leave me," Amanda begs in a whispered tone, her eyes glimmering in the dim bedroom lighting with what might be tears.

"I'm not leaving you," Olivia assures her softly, bending down to stroke a hand through golden tresses that are spread out across the pillowcase in a silken curtain. "I'm going to stay here with you tonight, okay? I don't want you to be alone while you're like this. I'll just be out on the couch if you need me."

"I don't want you to sleep on the couch, Liv." Amanda answers firmly, tugging on Olivia's arm until she is hovering at the edge of the mattress and has to hold herself upright to avoid tumbling onto her colleague's smaller form. "Stay here."

"Are you sure?" Olivia asks doubtfully, allowing herself to be pulled onto the bed next to Amanda as the younger woman shifts over on the sheets to create some space for her. "I don't want to make you feel unsafe in any way, honey."

"You're the only one I feel safe with, Liv."

As she snuggles close to Amanda's warm body, her co-worker's trust very evident in her actions and words, Olivia vows to protect and fight for her; that even though Mike had said the opposite inside the elevator, Amanda is more than worth it.


	5. Chapter 5

**We're back to Amanda's point of view in this chapter. Trigger warnings for mentions of rape and alcohol abuse.**

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Amanda is all too familiar with this particular scenario.

Waking up and not knowing what day or time it is, the sharp sensation of a knife slicing right through the center of her brain while her stomach roils in protest of her foolish and dangerous consumption of alcohol, is a situation that she is more than used to and the way she begins most of her days. Feeling so horrifically wretched in both body and soul is something that is perfectly natural to her after all this time, especially considering what she has been through in her life and the way she has chosen to deal with the aftermath of certain events.

What Amanda is _not_ used to, however, is waking up next to Olivia Benson.

She stares at the sleeping figure of the older woman in utter bewilderment, Olivia curled comfortably into the sheets beside her like she actually belongs right there in Amanda's bed and is quite at home in these surroundings. Her mind is instantly racing as she attempts to dig through a jumble of fragmented memories, trying to piece together what had taken place the night before and struggling to understand how the woman she is head over heels in love with has come to be in her bed; a place Olivia has never been before.

Not that her beautiful colleague is unwelcome here, of course, but Amanda is overcome with a sudden wave of panic when she realizes just how differently they are dressed; she herself clad in only a skimpy bra and panties set with a crumpled T-shirt twisted into the blankets nearby and from what Amanda is able to see of her, Olivia still appearing to be fully clothed in a deep red blouse and dark pair of blue jeans. She wonders what exactly had occurred for them to end up in this curious situation; her stomach twisting with dread and shame as she pictures herself making unwanted sexual advances on Olivia in her highly inebriated state and the other woman gently turning her down when Amanda had made her feel uncomfortable, but not wanting to leave her alone.

She briefly considers that they actually _had_ engaged in sexual activity at some point in the course of the past several hours, and Amanda scrambles to remember any small scrap of time they have spent together, hoping she has not made Olivia feel unsafe in any way and instinctively knowing that her co-worker would not have gone along with whatever she might have proposed while under the influence of alcohol. Amanda does not want it to be this way between them; does not want to be waking up beside this woman with absolutely no recollection of how they have gotten here and terrified that she has hurt her fellow detective in some way.

She is all too aware of just how aggressive she can become in her drunken state, shouting and fighting when things don't go her way during a game on TV at the bar or when one of the men get a little too close for comfort and refuse to take no for an answer. On the opposite end of the spectrum, she also knows how clingy she can be when she has had too much to drink, the level of neediness depending on who she is with and what kind of mood she is in; whether or not the trust is there and if she feels like being close to someone. Amanda prays that she has not done anything to make Olivia upset with her, a frown wrinkling her forehead when she briefly recalls that there had been three of them for part of the evening instead of just two; a man in a vehicle that did not belong to either her or Olivia, someone who had stood too close to her in the elevator of her building before helping her into the apartment.

"Fuck," Amanda mutters under her breath, scrubbing her hands over her greasy face as the name _Mike_ flashes through her brain along with the hazy image of a person older and taller than herself; bushy eyebrows and auburn hair and the long, lean build of a man she is fairly certain was Olivia's date.

She can feel a hot crimson blush spreading across her chest and creeping up her neck and into her face to infuse her cheeks with color, realizing that she and Olivia had definitely _not_ engaged in any kind of sexual activity since Amanda had interrupted her night with a member of the opposite sex, dragging Olivia away from her date to take care of her own needs instead. The wave of embarrassment that washes over her is enough to make her stomach turn, and Amanda presses her hand against her mouth when the vodka and whatever else she had consumed the night before threatens to make a nasty reappearance right there in her bed.

She moves slowly toward the edge of the mattress, intent on getting as cleaned up and presentable as she possibly can before Olivia awakens, and trying to come up with a plausible explanation for the way she has acted; something that will make Olivia leave and carry on with her day without worrying about Amanda's physical or mental state. She knows it is very unlikely that she will be able to convince Olivia that everything is fine after what had taken place the night prior, but it can't hurt to at least try. Amanda is more than used to pretending that all is well; it is how she has lived her entire life thus far, fooling people into believing that she is okay and sometimes even tricking herself into believing it too, until reality comes crashing back down upon her like a ton of bricks and she is swallowed up into the usual darkness.

Amanda is carefully swinging her legs over the side of the bed and is ready to creep into the bathroom on unsteady feet to take stock of just how awful she most likely looks this morning, when Olivia suddenly shifts violently on the sheets behind her and lets out a soft whimper.

Amanda whips back around at the unexpected movement and noise, the ensuing dizziness and pain making her head spin and her bruised ribs scream in protest, frowning when she hears what sounds like the name _Mike_ emitting in a fearful moan from between Olivia's lips. A white hot bolt of anger slashes right through Amanda's system at the thought of this guy harming Olivia in any way, before realizing that the word _Mom_ is what has actually been said.

She shifts closer to the other woman with some hesitation and frowns when Olivia begins mumbling under her breath and begging her mother not to hurt her, Amanda's heart aching in her chest when she reaches out to give the brunette's shoulder a gentle shake. "Liv, wake up. You're just dreaming."

When Olivia doesn't respond to her soft command but instead keeps whimpering and pleading not to be hurt, Amanda forgets how scantily clad she is and presses herself up against the shaking body of her colleague, the only thought in her mind to provide Olivia with some comfort. With her chest pressed into the older woman's back and her arm looped around a quivering waist, Amanda croons quietly into Olivia's ear; whispering soothing words of solace to bring her out of the nightmare and back into reality.

When she peers cautiously over Olivia's shoulder to see her eyelids fluttering slowly open, Amanda quickly lets go of her and rolls onto her back, staring up at the ceiling as mortifying memories from the night before are becoming clearer in her brain; terrified that Olivia is going to be angry or disappointed with her behavior and unable to handle it if she is.

"Hey," Olivia murmurs in a gravelly voice infused with sleep, Amanda watching out of the corner of her eye as the other woman turns onto her side and props her head up on her hand.

"Hey," Amanda replies in a neutral tone, making herself stay right where she is even though the only thing she wants to do is roll over and take Olivia back into her arms. "Are you okay?"

She is once again very aware of her lack of clothing but makes no move to cover her body, suddenly frozen to the sheets with dread as she feels the full weight of the older woman's gaze landing upon her and lingering there, wondering if Olivia is going to yell at her or simply get up and leave. Amanda is stunned when instead of harshly reprimanding her or vacating the premises altogether, Olivia begins stroking a gentle hand through her hair and moving the crumpled blonde strands out of her face with great care.

"Yeah, I'm okay," the brunette answers softly, Amanda's eyes still focused so hard on the ceiling that she won't be surprised if the force of her stare is enough to burrow a hole into the apartment above her. "I just had a bad dream."

"About your mom?" Amanda mumbles with barely concealed curiosity and concern, wrinkling her nose with distaste as she catches a faint whiff of smoke and booze and suddenly feeling desperate for a shower; not wanting Olivia to find her physically repulsive.

"Yeah, about my mom," Olivia confirms quietly, offering no additional information on the subject and Amanda deciding that it wouldn't be a good idea to push any further with this topic of discussion right now.

She is still refusing to make eye contact with her colleague, her gaze remaining trained on the ceiling, and Amanda is surprised when Olivia is suddenly right in her line of vision, the other woman leaning over her so long dark waves of hair are hanging down into her face. The scent of raspberries is surrounding her now, most likely from Olivia's shampoo or perfume, and Amanda can't help but think how gross she is in comparison, still tasting last night's vodka on her tongue and feeling the remnants of cigarette smoke clinging to her skin.

Her eyelids drift closed as if in protection from Olivia's likely revulsion, but instead of expressing her disgust, Amanda feels that gentle hand moving over her head again, tender fingers working their way through snarled knots of hair. "Hey, honey, can you open your eyes, please? Can you look at me?"

Amanda slowly does as she is told, opening her eyes to see Olivia's chocolate orbs only inches away from her own blue ones, and her stomach executing a nervous and excited somersault in response. They gaze unblinkingly at each other for several seconds before she becomes aware of Olivia's hand hovering down by the blankets, as if she intends to cover Amanda up and conceal her mostly naked body.

"How are you doing?" Olivia questions softly, Amanda shrugging in return as she doesn't trust herself to speak at the moment, overcome with so many conflicting emotions. "I'm just going to pull these blankets over you, okay? You must have taken your T-shirt off while you were asleep. Are you cold?"

Amanda is about to shrug again, as she hasn't really given much thought to her body temperature; if anything she probably feels too warm as Olivia's compassionate gaze roams over her bare skin in a very intimate manner, the older woman suddenly halting in the movement of covering her up.

"My god, Amanda, these bruises look even worse in the light of day," Olivia breathes in a somewhat stricken tone, Amanda shivering lightly when she feels the tip of one finger tracing ever so delicately along her rib cage. "Do they still hurt a lot?"

"They're not that bad," Amanda mutters through clenched teeth, not wanting to reopen this line of conversation again but unable to stop herself from getting lost in the hypnotic sensation of Olivia's fingers caressing across her pebbled skin.

"Well, they look bad," Olivia replies firmly, abruptly withdrawing her hand and peering more closely at Amanda. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable by touching you that way."

"You didn't," Amanda whispers in assurance, catching her lower lip between her teeth before speaking her next words. "It felt nice."

An expression that she can't quite decipher flits across Olivia's face before the usual sympathetic kindness is sliding back into place. "If it's okay with you, would you be able to turn over so I can take a look at your back? There's a big bruise on your side that looks like it goes all the way around." Olivia pauses briefly to frown down at Amanda in concern. "But if you would rather not, that's fine. I know you probably feel a little exposed right now."

Amanda responds by promptly rolling over onto her stomach and tucking her face into the pillow, displaying her bare back for Olivia to examine. There is a moment of silence, no movement whatsoever in the bed, before she feels the older woman's gentle touch on her skin once more; suppressing a sigh of contentment as tender fingers glide over the smattering of bruises on her back.

Those strong emotions are rising up inside of her again, Amanda pressing her face even harder into the pillowcase so Olivia can't see the tears welling in her eyes while the brunette expresses her dismay at the injuries and her desire for Amanda to see a doctor. Never before has anyone treated her with such reverence and care, the empathy that is clearly radiating from the other woman combined with the delicious intimacy of her touch creating a powerful storm of feelings that are making her head spin even faster than it already is.

Additional memories from the previous night are making themselves known as Amanda recalls experiencing a painful stab of jealously when Olivia had shown up at the bar with her date, another hazy thought poking at the edges of her consciousness but unable to grasp onto it despite the importance it seems to hold. Her cheeks are on fire with a shameful blush once again when she remembers what Mike had said in the elevator while she had been clinging onto Olivia for dear life, admitting that while his words had been harsh and embarrassing, he had actually made a good point. She _isn't_ worth Olivia's time and attention, and should probably be making that crystal clear to her co-worker before Olivia digs herself any deeper than she already is into Amanda's complete disaster of a life.

"He was right," she murmurs quietly into the pillow as Olivia rubs soothing circles onto her back, her face burning with humiliation and her heart pounding with regret.

"Who was right?" Olivia asks in confusion, the other woman's hair brushing against the bare skin of Amanda's spine as she leans over so they can see one another better.

"Mike."

"Right about what?" The question is asked in a stiff tone of voice, and Amanda's forehead puckers as she wonders if she has hit a nerve but unsure of why that might be the case.

"When he said I wasn't worth it," Amanda continues softly, craning her neck slightly so they are staring intently at each other. "I think you should listen to your boyfriend."

"First of all, he is _not_ my boyfriend," Olivia snaps sternly, Amanda flinching in response and the brunette immediately softening her tone and apologizing. "I won't be seeing him again. And second of all, he was dead wrong, Amanda. You are so worth it, do you hear me?"

A tear escapes from the corner of her eye before she can stop it, Amanda burying her face in the pillow again but aware that Olivia is leaning even further over her huddled form now, the older woman gently shaking her shoulder to get her to look up.

"Hey, Amanda, it's okay. Look at me, sweetheart."

Amanda stifles a sob, her entire body shuddering with the effort of holding in all of the emotions that are practically bursting at the seams, curling her knees into her chest and banding her arms around her shins so that she is tucked into the smallest ball possible. Olivia is hovering right above her, pulling the blankets over Amanda's shivering frame and pressing a comforting kiss onto the top of her head, a soft sob breaking free at this sweet gesture.

"Tell me what I can do for you," Olivia urges quietly, Amanda feeling the taller woman's body pressing closely into her own. "What do you need?"

"I need a shower. I smell bad," Amanda chokes out in reply, suddenly overwhelmed with the lingering stench of alcohol and cigarettes and listening to Olivia's light chuckle in response.

"Okay, how does this sound? I'll go into the kitchen and try to find something good to eat for breakfast while you get cleaned up, alright?" Olivia suggests gently, Amanda feeling those long fingers threading through her hair again. "Do you have bacon and eggs? I can make us a feast to get our day started off on the right foot."

"You don't have to do that, Olivia," Amanda mumbles in embarrassment, swiping a quick arm across her eyes to rid herself of any more tears that might try to escape. "And I don't think I have much in the fridge, sorry."

"Well, I'm sure I can find something suitable for us to eat," Olivia assures softly, Amanda sinking deeper into the sheets at the tender attention the older detective is lavishing upon her. "If you think you're okay on your own, I'll go into the kitchen and give you some time alone in here."

"I'm okay," Amanda whispers with as much conviction as she can muster, although she is pretty sure that Olivia can see right through her facade.

The other woman simply smiles in response and leans down to press another kiss to the top of Amanda's head before sliding off the edge of the bed and getting to her feet, telling her to come into the kitchen when she is showered and ready for breakfast. Amanda nods in response and watches as Olivia exits the bedroom, somehow still managing to look gorgeous after a night spent in her clothing while sharing a bed with her drunk colleague and suffering through a horrific nightmare.

Amanda remains in bed for a few minutes, snuggled into the covers while she waits for her head to stop spinning long enough to stand up and wondering why Olivia had been having such a frightening dream about her mother. There are so many things she wants to ask the brunette but does not wish to offer anything in return about her own issues, or at least not at this particular time; not when she is so vulnerable in every sense of the word. She is beyond embarrassed with how she has behaved over the last few days while both drunk and sober, interrupting Olivia's date and revealing some of her well-kept secrets, and Amanda is determined to do better from this point forward; to keep a tighter reign on her actions and emotions in her co-worker's presence.

After a long, hot shower that soothes her aches and pains and perks her up a little bit more, Amanda is wrapping a towel around herself and stepping very carefully out of the tub when she is seized by simultaneous recollections from the night before. Her heart feels like it has come to an abrupt halt inside her chest when she remembers her confession to Olivia about only feeling alive when they are spending time together, as well as mentioning the name Charlie.

Amanda's hand flies up to cover her mouth in incredulous disbelief that she has let a couple of her biggest secrets slip out like she had simply been making casual conversation, and is honestly unsure which of the two is worse. She can hear the clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen, can smell the delicious scent of cooking in the air, her stomach rumbling unexpectedly as she feels a pang of hunger cutting through the nausea, but Amanda can't bring herself to care about food at a time like this; not when her thoughts are consumed with the woman she is in love with and the man who had hurt her so thoroughly.

Complete and utter rage at her inability to keep things to herself while under the influence of alcohol is causing her entire body to shake as Amanda reaches a trembling hand up to wipe away the steam on the mirror so she can see what is likely to be a very tormented reflection. What she does see, however, is not the exhausted young woman staring back at her, wet blonde hair slicked away from a ghostly white face and droplets of water sliding down damp skin, but the person who is standing behind her.

Amanda can't hold in the loud shriek of horror that rips from her throat at the shocking appearance of Charles Patton, momentarily unsure of whether he is a product of the booze still swimming through her system, a figment of her imagination, or if he is actually standing right there in her bathroom. She whirls around as her hands fly up in front of her in defense, frantically searching for anything she can use as a weapon, and the swift motion causing her to lose her balance and fall against the wall with an audible thump.

Amanda winces as the dull ache in her ribs explodes into a searing pain, squeezing her eyes shut as she listens to the quick tread of footsteps in the hallway and hears the rhythmic pounding on the door, Olivia's voice high and alarmed and asking a string of questions, but Amanda unable to make out what she is saying. When she opens her eyes again, the bathroom is empty and Charles Patton is nowhere to be seen, Amanda cowering on the floor in a crumpled ball of fear and coming to the realization that she is terrified of a man who is not actually in the same room as her but is hundreds of miles away in Atlanta.

"Amanda! Are you okay? Open the door right now!"

Amanda is able to understand what Olivia is saying now, the indistinct quality of the other woman's voice slowly morphing into actual words as she reaches toward the door handle with an arm that is shuddering so vigorously, she has to lower the limb back down onto her lap. "I can't," she mutters breathlessly, rocking back and forth on the tiles as she waits for the murky image of her flashback to completely subside; catching sight of a shadowy figure in the corner of the room before she blinks and it disappears.

"Why can't you open the door? Answer me please! I need you to tell me what's going on, Amanda."

Olivia's voice is ringing vehemently through the wooden barrier that separates them, and Amanda can tell that she is trying to stay calm despite the distress emanating from her tone and the sound of pacing footsteps. She knows her colleague is very worried and deserves an explanation for the sudden screaming and Amanda's inability to open the door, but she is frozen right to ground as images from the past begin assaulting her mind in an unending loop of horror that won't stop; hot breath and roaming hands and sweaty skin on a bed that is not her own but has become all too familiar to her.

The words _I can't_ are emitting repeatedly from between her lips now, a sickening motto of sorts that perfectly describe the current state of Amanda's life; how she can't seem to let go of the past and move forward into the future in a healthy way, how she can't even make it through a simple task in her own home without being reduced to a quivering heap of terror on the floor.

And most importantly, how she can't continue to subject the woman she is in love with to any more of this insanity; Amanda deciding right then and there not to let Olivia any further into her broken life.


	6. Chapter 6

**This chapter picks up right where the previous one left off and is from Amanda's point of view. Sorry for taking so long to update.**

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Amanda belatedly realizes that she has forgotten to lock the bathroom door.

She is not used to having another person inside her home while she is showering and getting dressed, and in her foggy, hungover state, it hadn't occurred to her to do so. Although she hasn't known Olivia for very long, she knows enough that the other woman would never just barge into the room in Amanda's current state of undress but is also aware that Olivia might not think she has a choice in the matter if Amanda doesn't pull herself together as quickly as possible.

The last thing she wants to do is let the woman she idolizes see her in this pathetic condition, but figures Olivia won't leave the apartment until she is absolutely sure that her fellow detective is in decent enough shape to be left alone. Olivia has seen her in enough embarrassing situations over the past few days and it is time to put a stop to what is quickly becoming a very inappropriate routine. Amanda's plan is to put as much confidence and conviction as she possibly can into her voice and body language, or least enough so that Olivia will feel comfortable carrying on with the remainder of her weekend outside of her colleague's home and Amanda can begin putting some distance between them.

"It's unlocked," she calls out, wincing at the weak quality of her voice and realizing just as the door starts opening slowly that it was a bad idea to let Olivia come in when she can't actually get herself off the floor just yet.

Amanda keeps her eyes closed and her face pushed into the wall as she struggles to catch her breath and ignore the strong pulse of pain in her ribs, trying to regain some semblance of composure and feeling the weight of Olivia's presence hovering over her; that compassionate, knowing gaze boring into her towel-clad body. She can do this; she can be strong in the older woman's company and not allow herself to crumble any further just because she caught a brief, imagined glimpse of a man who isn't even physically there but is hundreds of miles away in Atlanta. The rational side of Amanda's brain knows that she is perfectly safe in her own home, that no one else is here besides Olivia; and since she is the master of pretending everything is okay when that's not actually the case, this situation shouldn't be so difficult to manipulate in her favor.

She is well aware that this is Olivia Benson, detective extraordinaire, that she is trying to persuade into thinking everything is alright, but has accepted the challenge of convincing the other woman that she is indeed fine. "I'm okay," Amanda mumbles in a low tone, folding her limbs more tightly into her body and keeping her face averted so the brunette can't see her anguished expression.

"Yeah, you seem okay, all curled up into a ball on the floor with your face shoved against the wall," Olivia replies gently, a dry note in her tone as she steps into the bathroom. "If this is what it looks like when you're okay, I'd hate to see what it looks like when you're not."

"I'm fine, Liv, really. You can go, you don't have to stay," Amanda says quietly, willing her voice to stop trembling when she speaks and still refusing to look up at the beautiful figure who is looming over her in concern.

"I'm not leaving you alone right now," Olivia answers firmly, Amanda chastising herself for thinking it would actually be easy enough to persuade Olivia to leave just by telling her that she is fine. "Are you able to stand up?"

"Not yet," Amanda admits with a small shrug, overtaken by a round of shivers in her damp and nearly nude state. "I just need to wait until I stop shaking. It's so cold in here."

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches as Olivia spins on her heel and strides from the room without another word, Amanda's brow wrinkling in confusion and her heart promptly melting with gratitude when the older woman returns with the quilt from her bed and bends down to carefully wrap it around her shuddering shoulders. When the blanket is tucked snugly over her quivering form, Olivia simply sits down on the floor beside her, their bodies brushing against each other and a stillness descending upon the room; no movement or sound whatsoever.

Amanda guesses that Olivia is trying to give her some time to compose herself without forcing her to talk, and after several moments of oddly comfortable silence, she finds her resolve quickly crumbling when it comes to keeping her colleague out of her life. Amanda is so sore and exhausted and hungover, that unsettling terror still lingering deep inside, and she finds her head slumping down to rest on Olivia's shoulder before she can stop the action; her mind at war with itself as she craves the comfort that she had initially shunned. Olivia still doesn't speak but merely leans her head against Amanda's in a silent show of support, the older woman's fingers tracing light patterns along the quilt that has spilled over her own legs.

"You're still shaking a lot," Olivia finally acknowledges softly, nudging Amanda very gently with her elbow. "Do you want some help? You're going to catch a cold, sitting there soaking wet and freezing."

"The towel's staring to dry," Amanda murmurs drowsily, her head lolling limply on Olivia's shoulder when the other woman tries to pull back so they can look each other in the eye, her earlier resolve crumbling even further when she gets a glimpse of those huge dark orbs that are shining with their usual kindness and something else she can't quite define.

"Your hair is plastered right to your head, though." Amanda's eyelids flutter as Olivia runs a tender hand through her drenched locks. "If you're still too shaky to get up, let me help you."

Amanda contemplates this offer before nodding slowly in assent, irritated with herself for continuing to look weak and foolish in Olivia's presence but feeling far too wretched to try staggering to her feet in order to dry her hair and get dressed. She doesn't usually fall apart this thoroughly in front of people and can normally either wait until she's in private to have a meltdown of this magnitude or at least hide it better if she's not alone; not wanting Olivia to think any less of her than she likely already does.

Amanda immediately misses the physical contact when Olivia slowly extricates herself from their entwined position, getting to her feet and picking up the hair dryer and brush sitting on the counter that she had been intending to use before Charles Patton had appeared in the mirror. Olivia brings everything they need over to Amanda's spot on the floor and crouches down beside her again, urging Amanda to move a couple of feet away from the wall.

She shuffles forward in a clumsy, awkward manner so Olivia can begin gently untucking her wet hair from inside the blanket and run a smaller towel over her head to rid her blonde tresses of as much water as she can. The older woman begins dragging a brush very slowly through the long tangled knots, Amanda's eyes closing and her chin slumping toward her chest at the tender ministrations; Olivia creating a damp golden curtain that hangs straight down her back.

After the initial shock and upheaval of the unexpected appearance of her former deputy chief, Amanda now finds herself on the verge of sleep, her unconventional lifestyle catching up with her and everything that has been happening lately seeming to come crashing down around her in a desperate need for rest. As Olivia holds the hair dryer over her head with one hand and continues stroking the brush through her hair with the other, it occurs to Amanda that this might be the most intimate situation she has ever been in with another person; a consensual intimacy that doesn't involve sex but simply allowing someone to be close to her and take care of her in this time of need.

When Amanda's hair is completely dry, the room descends into silence once again; no noise and minimal movement as Olivia sets aside the items she has been using and runs her fingers lightly through silky golden strands. Amanda has practically melted into a puddle on the floor at the tender treatment she is receiving from her colleague, her previous headache and nausea and fear receding somewhat; unable to remember the last time someone has shown her so much gentle concern.

The embarrassment is still lingering right there just below the surface, reminding Amanda that the woman she privately loves has now seen her in multiple humiliating and shameful situations, but she still can't bring herself to pull away despite her earlier resolve to do so. Her brain is a whirling mass of confusion, Amanda laying her face down upon her bent knees and heaving a deep sigh, aware that Olivia's hand has come to a halt and is now resting lightly atop her head.

"Breakfast is ready in the kitchen if you think you're able to stand up and get dressed now," the brunette says in a soft voice that is laced with patience and understanding. "Maybe we can talk while we have some coffee and you can tell me what happened in here. Does that sound okay to you?"

Amanda doesn't know how to respond to this question, unable to recall a time when she has felt quite so conflicted about a situation; simultaneously wanting to demand that Olivia vacate her home and leave her to drown in her own torment, and eager to throw herself into the other woman's arms and beg her to stay for the rest of the day. Before she can say a word in reply, Amanda's dilemma is solved when a shrill ringing suddenly fills the air and Olivia is pulling away to dig her cell phone out of the pocket of her jeans, glancing down at the display screen with a muttered, "Shit."

Amanda's heart is sinking in her chest as she watches the older woman get to her feet and hurry from the room, answering the phone with a terse, "Benson," when she holds the device up to her ear. She remembers that Olivia and her partner Nick are on-call this weekend and figures the brunette will be rushing away quite shortly; briefly wondering if it is actually Mike on the phone but thinking Olivia wouldn't be answering with her last name if it was.

Amanda is surprised to find tears pricking at her eyelids at the thought of Olivia leaving her alone, and furiously blinks them away before her colleague returns to the bathroom to find her crying on the floor. She scrubs her hands over her face in an effort to rid herself of any obvious negative emotion when she hears Olivia's footsteps cease their pacing in the kitchen and begin striding back toward her slumped position on the ground.

"I just got called in," Olivia says softly as she leans against the door frame, her face pinched with worry and her eyes dark and piercing. "I don't feel right about leaving you like this, Amanda; not when you're in so much pain and especially after the flashback I'm pretty sure you just had in here."

Amanda's face burns with humiliation and shame as she fixes her blurry gaze steadfastly on the floor, steeling herself against unwanted memories of Patton and biting her lip when Olivia kneels down in front of her and takes her small, clammy hands into her warm, larger pair.

"Is there anything I can do for you before I go? Is there someone I can call to come over here and stay with you?" Olivia's voice still has that soothing lilt, although there is a distinct note of concern visible beneath the compassion now.

"I don't need anyone," Amanda shrugs casually, her eyes fixed firmly on the floor and not straying away from a hairline crack in the tiles that she has noticed, feigning a sudden interest in this tiny imperfection.

"Amanda, I know you don't like admitting when you need someone-"

"I don't _have_ anyone," she corrects hastily, interrupting Olivia before she can continue. "It's just me. My family is back in Atlanta and I haven't been in New York long enough to make many friends." She is practically tripping over her words now, trying to assure Olivia that this is normal and she will be fine alone; determined to keep those stubbornly welling tears at bay. "But don't worry about it, Liv. I'm used to being by myself and I'll be okay, I promise. I'm better off alone, anyway. Remember when I told you that?"

"Yes, I remember but I don't agree with you," Olivia replies quietly, Amanda keeping her hands limp when she feels the older woman giving them a tight, comforting squeeze. "You're not better off alone. And I'm not leaving because I want to, Amanda. If I wasn't getting called in, I would be spending the rest of the day here with you."

Amanda clenches her jaw shut against an onslaught of intense emotion, angry with herself for being so needy and wanting nothing more than to collapse into Olivia's arms and beg her to stay instead of going out to do her job. This uncharacteristically clingy behavior is wrong and cannot continue, Amanda mentally rebuilding those walls around herself that her fellow detective seems to be so intent on breaking through and knocking down.

"Well, I was going to ask you to leave anyway, Olivia," she lies smoothly, her heart clenching in her chest when she sees the brief look of hurt flashing across the other woman's features. "So this works out very well for the both of us."

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The squad room is the usual hustle and bustle of clacking keyboards, loud voices and rushing feet as Amanda picks listlessly at her salad, the lettuce tasting like cardboard in her mouth as she chews without much interest, feeling slightly shaky as a headache pulses in her temples. Lunchtime at the precinct on Monday is no quieter than any other part of the day, Cragen pacing around inside his office as he engages in what appears to be a very angry telephone conversation with someone, while Fin and Amaro playfully toss French fries at each other from their respective desks.

The only other person in the room who looks to be as miserable and contemplative as Amanda herself is Olivia, the older woman's chin propped up in her hand as she flips through a large stack of files and ignores a salad of her own that is sitting beside the pile of papers. Amanda feels a sharp stab of guilt as she glances briefly at Olivia and immediately averts her gaze when the brunette's dark eyes instantly swing up to fix upon her with an unreadable expression, as if she had been able to feel the weight of Amanda's stare.

The first half of the day has been incredibly awkward and she figures the second half will be just as bad, Amanda doing her best to ignore Olivia and stay out of her co-worker's way as they both go about their business. Olivia had called and texted her multiple times after leaving Amanda's apartment the day before, the other woman's worry extremely obvious, but Amanda choosing not to answer the calls or reply to the messages and continuing to shoot down any attempts at conversation that Olivia has tried to initiate throughout the morning.

She has been determined to clean up her act and return to the tough detective that she knows herself to be; proud of the fact that she hasn't had a drop to drink or tuned into a game on TV since Olivia had left her place, keeping herself busy in any way she possibly could. That intense guilt insists on permeating every part of Amanda's being as she carries on with her day and tries to remain strong, aware that she is being unfair by shutting Olivia out so thoroughly but unable to see another choice in the matter. The woman she loves has been nothing but patient and kind with her over the past few days and does not deserve to be treated this way, but Amanda can see no other option at this point in time other than to keep pushing her away.

When she can still feel the penetrating dark gaze of her colleague practically burning a hole through her body, Amanda excuses herself from the group and pushes back from her desk to head down the hallway to the bathroom. She is relieved to find herself alone in the small space, praying that Olivia won't decide to join her, and leans against the counter with a sigh before turning on the sink and splashing some cold water onto her face.

After several minutes spent in the quiet of the washroom and listening to the din of cop conversations outside the door while she gathers her thoughts, Amanda feels confident enough to return to the squad room, frowning with curiosity when she sees Fin and Nick crowded around Olivia's desk. "What's going on?" she asks while trying to peer past the taller figures of the men, her frown becoming deeper when she notices the large vase of brightly colored flowers that had not been there when she had left.

"These were just delivered. Seems Liv has a secret admirer," Nick chuckles in response, Amanda sure she can detect the barest hint of jealously in his tone as she feels an immediate spike of her own.

"I don't have a secret admirer," Olivia mutters irritably as she tucks a note card into her pocket before anyone has a chance to read it. "I know who they're from. It's just none of your business."

"Seems like someone's in a bit of a mood today," Fin teases gently, although Amanda can hear the concern in her partner's voice. "You doing okay, Liv? Is there anyone's ass you need me to kick for you?"

Amanda watches as Olivia shakes her head and laughs softly, declining the offer and reminding Fin that she is perfectly capable of kicking ass on her own. After a few more minutes of conversation, the guys wander away from their desks to refresh their coffees, leaving Amanda to stand there awkwardly as she observes the rigid set of Olivia's shoulders and the downcast expression on her face.

"Are you sure you're okay, Liv?" she questions tentatively, unable to stop from prolonging the discussion due to her colleague's worrisome attitude. "Are those flowers from Mike?"

"Oh, so you've finally decided to start speaking to me again?" Olivia replies with a trace of bitterness in her tone, dark eyes swinging away from the vase to fix on Amanda with visible anger. "It's nice to see that something has finally caught your attention and reminded you that I actually exist."

Amanda's eyebrows fly upwards in surprise, completely taken aback by the unusual harshness of Olivia's words and voice, although she supposes it is no less than what she deserves. There is a tense silence between them for a moment as they stare intently at each other, blue eyes locked onto brown, and Amanda finds herself at a loss for words, knowing that she has so many things to apologize for but not wanting to acknowledge them at this time.

"Is he bothering you?" she mumbles instead, gesturing toward the flowers that she has to admit are the most gorgeous bouquet she has ever seen, but concerned that this attention and affection from Mike is unwanted. "You told me yesterday that he wasn't your boyfriend and you weren't seeing him again, so is he not taking no for an answer?"

"He's being pretty persistent but it's nothing I can't handle," Olivia says with a sigh, raking her hands back through long waves of thick hair. "It certainly doesn't help that we live next door to each other, so the close proximity makes it much harder to avoid him."

"Olivia, if he won't leave you alone, I can help-"

Amanda is abruptly cut off when the other woman raises her hand and spears with that intense gaze that sends shivers running down her spine. "Considering you can't even help yourself right now, I don't think there's much point in offering to help me."

Amanda is stunned into silence again at Olivia's swift change in attitude from the previous day, her heart plummeting down to her shoes and horrified to find herself on the verge of tears as she struggles to speak, not wanting to admit that Olivia is precisely right. "Wow. Well, okay, then."

"Oh my god, I am so sorry, Amanda," Olivia breathes raggedly, looking to be on the verge of tears herself now. "That was way out of line and I shouldn't have said it."

There is a short pause as the older woman gives one of the pink roses a flick of disgust with her fingertips, appearing to be trying to decide whether or not to confess her next words. "The last twenty-four hours have been absolute hell for me, alright? Between the horrific scene that Amaro and I got called out to yesterday and being accosted by Mike in the hallway as soon as I got home, as well as not knowing if you were okay because you refused to answer any of my calls or texts, I feel like I've been losing my mind. I almost went back to your apartment before I decided not to."

The next sentence is uttered in a voice so low that Amanda has to strain to hear it, her heart clenching painfully inside her chest in response. "I couldn't sleep all night because I was so worried about you."

"I'm the one who should be sorry," Amanda whispers shamefully, shocked and embarrassed that Olivia has spent so much time thinking about her and worrying over her when she is already dealing with so many of her own issues. "Everything is just really confusing and complicated right now and I'm not used to having someone around who actually cares."

"Well, get used to it, alright?" Olivia hisses under her breath, sounding torn between anger and sadness and compassion. "Because I care, Amanda. I care a hell of a lot. Probably more than I should, okay?"

"More than you should?" Amanda echoes with a curious tilt of her head, her heart rate picking up speed. "What does that mean?"

"Nothing, just forget it," Olivia murmurs with a wave of her hand as she turns away. "I'm extremely sleep-deprived and saying things that I probably shouldn't be. Maybe it's best that you just go back to ignoring me for now, or at least until I can stop running my mouth about certain topics."

Amanda is quiet again for a moment, digesting everything that has been said between them and glancing around the squad room to make sure her co-workers aren't paying attention; relieved to see Cragen still on the phone in his office and Fin and Nick engaged in conversation at the coffee machine. She steps toward Olivia and lays a hand on the older woman's back, surprised to feel the brunette's body quivering slightly beneath her touch and unsure if it's due to intense emotion or overwhelming exhaustion or a combination of the two.

"I am trying, you know," Amanda says quietly when Olivia turns around and quirks an eyebrow at her, making sure to keep her voice down so no one else will overhear. "To help myself," she adds quickly, catching her lower lip between her teeth while she speaks. "I haven't had a drink since I was at the bar on Saturday night, and I haven't done any gambling either. I know it hasn't been very long, but that's still something, isn't it; not doing either of those things yesterday?"

Olivia's expression instantly softens and a small smile lifts one corner of her lip. "Yes, Amanda, it's definitely something. I'm happy to hear that. And I'm sorry if I push too hard when you want to be left alone. You're not the only one who's confused right now, okay?" The other woman stops talking long enough to blow out a breath and clear her throat, those chocolate-colored orbs darting away. "You make me feel things-"

The door to Cragen's office suddenly flies open before Olivia can continue speaking, their boss calling loudly for everyone's attention but Amanda's gaze focused so hard on her colleague that she barely notices him, her heart pounding furiously in her chest. She wonders what Olivia had been about to say, that interrupted sentence playing over and over on a loop inside her brain while Cragen barks out orders and causing another shiver to race down her spine.

 _You make me feel things._


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm continuing with the pattern of doing two chapters in a row from each woman's point of view, so this chapter and the next one are from Olivia's. My apologies for another long wait between updates but hopefully they will be more frequent from this point forward. I will try my best.  
**

 ** _Trigger warnings for mentions of rape_. **

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Olivia's heart is pounding furiously inside her chest.

It is Friday evening, one week since she had taken Amanda out for dinner after work and decided to initiate this friendship or whatever this relationship can be classified as, and she is pacing back and forth in front of her apartment door, having just buzzed her fellow detective in from the lobby downstairs. The past few days have been extremely awkward and strained at the precinct, both women walking on eggshells every time they are in each other's presence, and Olivia had figured that it was time to invite her colleague over to clear the air.

She doesn't really know what she plans to say to Amanda, as so many things have been left hanging between them after Cragen had interrupted their conversation in the squad room at lunch time on Monday. Olivia has been cursing herself non-stop for her uncharacteristic slip of the tongue while they had been talking, and is unsure of whether to be relieved or disappointed about not being able to continue on with their discussion.

She has never felt this bewildered and conflicted over anything in her entire life, which is definitely saying a lot; uncertain of what exactly it is that she feels for Amanda, although immense guilt for the way she had spoken to the other woman at work is definitely near the top of the list. All Olivia knows for sure is that she cares a hell of a lot for this woman who had come into her life at such a chaotic time, and wants nothing more than to deepen this friendship or whatever it is that has sprung up between them lately; immense worry and sincere compassion for Amanda dominating her thoughts more often than not.

When Olivia opens the door to her apartment with the intention of meeting Amanda in the hallway, the welcoming smile that is stretching across her lips vanishes instantly, her throat tightening and her stomach muscles clenching when she sees the younger woman getting out of the elevator with Mike. Amanda appears distinctly uncomfortable, her shoulders set rigidly and her hands fisted down by her sides as blue eyes lock onto brown with a pleading look, Olivia striding quickly toward them with the intention of rescuing her colleague from a potentially distressing situation.

"Look who I ran into downstairs," Mike announces cheerfully, his tone pleasant enough but Olivia detecting a faint note of hostility beneath the brightness. "She definitely looks a lot better than the last time I saw her. I'm not quite sure if she remembers meeting me, though, considering how drunk she was at the time."

"I remember," Amanda replies through gritted teeth, Olivia's heart aching as she recalls what her date had said to her co-worker when she had been at her absolute lowest, Amanda so frightened and dazed and clinging tightly onto her body in both the car and the elevator on the trip home.

"Have a good evening, Mike," Olivia says firmly as she reaches out to take hold of Amanda's elbow and steer her inside, feeling the need to protect the smaller woman from her nosy neighbor and not at all eager for the three of them to get into a long and potentially awkward conversation in the middle of the hallway.

"Are you alright?" she asks in concern after shutting the door right in Mike's face, her hand sliding from Amanda's elbow to her forearm and her fingers giving a light squeeze. "What did he say to you in the elevator?"

Olivia remembers the terror that Amanda had exhibited in Mike's presence when she had been so inebriated, and even though she is aware that the younger woman's fear most likely had nothing to do with Mike himself, she is still worried that Amanda feels triggered in some way.

"He just asked me how I was doing," the blonde detective murmurs with an evasive shrug, her gaze straying away to focus on the ground. "I told him I was doing well."

Olivia peers closely at her friend, as she has a feeling Amanda isn't telling her everything and that a lot more had actually been said between them on the way up to her floor. "And are you _really_ doing well?" she questions softly, knowing that Amanda obviously wouldn't be telling Mike the truth if she wasn't.

"Yeah," Amanda replies quietly, still studiously avoiding Olivia's penetrating dark eyes. "I'm fine."

An uneasy silence stretches out for a moment, the air seeming to crackle with tension around them before Amanda finally looks up to meet her gaze, those blue orbs shining with concern and something else that Olivia can't quite define. "Are _you_ doing okay, Liv? Is he still bothering you?"

Olivia hesitates before answering as she doesn't want to add any more stress to Amanda's life, privately admitting that Mike is beginning to unnerve her with his persistence but as she had said in the squad room a few days earlier, the situation is nothing she can't handle. "I'm doing just fine," she says smoothly, gracing Amanda with a warm smile and giving her arm a tighter squeeze. "Now how about we make some popcorn and watch a movie?"

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As the evening progresses and the clock ticks steadily toward midnight, Olivia is surprised to find that she is thoroughly enjoying herself and is not at all eager for Amanda to leave anytime soon. She had been expecting a somewhat tense and awkward night between them, much like the entire week at the precinct had played out, and has certainly not anticipated how much fun spending time with Amanda would be.

Despite her initial intention of bringing up some very serious topics of discussion, including Amanda's drinking and the interrupted conversation at the precinct, their evening has been quite lighthearted so far, the two of them chatting and laughing about nothing in particular. It is a relief not to have her thoughts swirling around Mike or Elliot or anything else that has been troubling her lately, the nightmares about her mother or the disturbing cases their squad has been embroiled in, Olivia realizing that she is paying much more attention to Amanda than any of the movies they have been watching or any other aspect of her life.

She is very distracted by the delicately pretty appearance of the woman sitting next to her on the couch, Amanda dressed simply in a long-sleeved white T-shirt and blue jeans, her long blonde hair pulled back into a casual ponytail. The younger detective looks both fragile and beautiful with her legs tucked up beneath her on the cushions as she perches there comfortably beside Olivia, Amanda appearing smaller and paler than usual, as if the recent stress of everything has caused her to lose some weight. Strangely, the fragility and vulnerability doesn't do anything at all to diminish her beauty but only seems to enhance it, Olivia barely able to keep her eyes off her colleague for any length of time and trying not to stare.

When Amanda throws her head back and lets out a loud laugh at something Olivia has just said, the other woman's big blue eyes sparkling with a depth of joy that she can't recall witnessing since Amanda had joined their squad, Olivia feels a deep wave of emotion overcome her as she watches the animated expression on her friend's face. She remembers Amanda's drunken admission the previous weekend of only feeling alive while spending time in her presence, and Olivia finds herself blinking rapidly against the sudden threat of tears as her heart swells with both affection and sadness for everything her co-worker has been enduring in her personal life lately.

She shifts closer to Amanda on the couch, her heart beginning to race at the question that has just formed in her mind and is now poised on the tip of her tongue, feeling an intense need to bridge the physical gap between them and provide Amanda with as much comfort as she can by establishing a more intimate connection. Olivia's fingers twitch minutely on the cushions, her hand so close to Amanda's that she can easily reach out and touch her if she so chooses, but wanting the younger woman to feel safe in her home and thinking it better to seek permission first.

"Is it okay if I hold your hand?" she asks quietly, noting the look of utter surprise that crosses Amanda's face before a shy smile quirks her lips, followed by a slow nod of assent.

"Thank you for inviting me over tonight, Liv," the younger woman says softly, Olivia's heart thumping swiftly inside her chest when Amanda turns her hand over so her palm is facing upwards, Olivia carefully sliding her own hand on top of Amanda's so their palms are resting gently against each other and their fingers are intertwined.

"Well, thank you for coming," Olivia replies in a heartfelt tone, pausing briefly as she acknowledges the real reason for inviting Amanda here; that need to discuss those deeper topics of conversation, although there is a small part of her that is reluctant to let go of this rare bit of lightheartedness. "I'm really sorry for the way I spoke to you in the squad room on Monday. I was out of line."

"It's alright," Amanda murmurs with a shrug, her eyes drifting down to fix on the floor once again and her voice holding a large amount of shame when she speaks. "I'm sorry for ignoring you last weekend when you were trying to get in touch with me. And you weren't out of line at all. I was taken aback for a second but I definitely deserved it."

"You didn't deserve it," Olivia answers firmly, giving their joined hands a tight squeeze and tilting her head to the side in an effort to get the blonde detective to meet her gaze.

"I _did_ ," Amanda insists almost inaudibly, as if the shame of the situation has nearly snatched her voice away and it is hard for her to get the words out. "Maybe it was the kick in the pants that I needed to start pulling myself together. I've been doing a lot better with everything this week. No drinking or gambling...or not as much of it, anyway."

"I'm so happy to hear that, Amanda," Olivia says sincerely, her heart swelling once again at the other woman's admission. "And I'm glad you've felt comfortable enough to confide in me about some of the things that you've been going through lately. I want you to know that I'm here for you whenever you need me, okay?"

"I know you are, Olivia; thank you." Amanda's voice is a hushed whisper when she replies, the two of them gazing intently at one another now, and Olivia reaches out with her other hand to gently feather some wispy strands of hair away from her friend's face.

Soft smiles are shared as they sit there quietly together for several moments, Olivia feeling caught somewhere between nervousness and relaxation as she leans her head back against the cushions and watches Amanda do the same. She continues to stroke her hand through the younger woman's hair, the golden tresses feeling like the finest of spun silk as they slip through her fingertips and their faces so close together that they are breathing the same air. Olivia finds that she can't seem to stop touching Amanda, wanting to bring her some comfort in any way that she possibly can, and her heart skipping a beat when she sees Amanda shifting just a tiny bit closer to her on the couch.

She lets her thumb move in slow circles across the back of the smaller woman's hand, tracing light patterns on the warm skin and watching as that adorable little smile keeps dancing at the corners of Amanda's lips. "I also wanted you to know that anything you tell me about what's been going on lately will stay between the two of us. Nothing you say will scare me away or make me judge you or think any less of you."

Amanda's smile fades and her gaze drops away from Olivia's again, as if she is having trouble maintaining eye contact whenever the conversation takes an uncomfortable turn, thin shoulders hunching up toward her ears in a defensive mode. The younger woman's change in attitude is pulling at Olivia's heartstrings, Amanda looking tiny and vulnerable as a noticeable shiver runs through her small frame, and Olivia unsure if the response is due to the detective feeling chilly or the more serious turn their evening has taken.

She takes a chance and slides even closer on the cushions so their bodies are brushing against one another now, disentangling their hands and slipping an arm around Amanda's trembling shoulders, her voice gently prodding when she speaks. "You had a flashback in your bathroom last weekend, didn't you? Just after you got out of the shower?"

Amanda is completely rigid in her embrace, the other woman not moving a muscle for a moment, and Olivia feeling both relieved and concerned when she finally nods her head very slowly in response.

"Was it about Charlie?"

Olivia's tone is soft and soothing when she puts a voice to the question, one of many that she has been wanting to ask lately, watching as Amanda nods again after another long pause. She digs her fingertips tenderly into Amanda's tense shoulders, wanting her colleague to loosen up from her stiff position while they talk and massaging very gently when she feels those bunched muscles begin to uncoil.

"Can you tell me who Charlie is, honey?"

"He was someone I used to know back in Atlanta." Amanda's voice is a hoarse whisper when she answers, her fingers fiddling with a loose thread on the leg of her jeans. "I only called him Charlie when we were alone, though. We were always formal with each other around other people."

"What's Charlie's last name?"

Olivia decides to take another chance, knowing before she even inquires that Amanda most likely won't answer that particular question and having it confirmed when the younger woman falls abruptly silent. Olivia gathers the small, shaking form of her friend even closer to her body, her lips coming to rest on the crown of Amanda's bent head, and deciding to try a different tactic to get her to open up a bit more.

"How are your bruises doing? Are they any better now?"

"They're healing," Amanda says softly, still avoiding Olivia's gaze. "I haven't gotten any more this week. I haven't fallen again."

"I'm glad to hear that," Olivia replies quietly, remembering how terrible the other woman's injuries had looked the previous weekend, her mind straying toward the image of Amanda standing in her bedroom clad only in her bra and underwear before she can stop it. "Have you had more flashbacks over the past few days?"

"Can we please just watch the movie, Liv?" Amanda asks with a heavy sigh, her brows furrowing as she finally makes eye contact again. "I don't really want to talk about any of this."

Olivia neglects to mention that they had barely been watching the television in the first place, their chatter and laughter drowning out the voices of the characters on screen, and simply grabs the remote to turn the sound up. She feels a pang in her chest at ruining their fun evening together even though her original intention had been the complete opposite of a lighthearted night, and is relieved when Amanda chooses to stay cuddled up against her and doesn't pull away from her touch or get up to announce that she is leaving.

Olivia stifles a weary sigh of her own as she tightens her arms around the trim body of her friend, pressing another kiss to the top of her blonde head and wondering if Amanda will ever feel like she can fully open up about her personal torment.

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When Olivia's eyelids fly open, it takes her a moment to figure out exactly what is going on; confusion and exhaustion permeating every inch of her body and her mind fully engaged in scenes from the past before realizing just what is taking place in the present. Tormented by the usual nightmares that are far too real to simply be figments of her imagination but are actually bits and pieces of a horrific collection of childhood memories, Olivia is briefly convinced that her deceased mother is standing in the corner of the living room, screaming drunken obscenities at her.

After blinking rapidly several times to clear her blurry vision and letting her eyes focus properly, her heart is in her throat when it registers that the incoherent shrieking is coming from Amanda, her colleague standing by the television set on wobbly legs that are barely supporting her while shaking arms cover her head in a protective fashion. Olivia leaps frantically from the couch before reminding herself to slow her movements so as not to frighten Amanda even more, figuring she had not been the only one to suffer through a nightmare after falling asleep on the couch together.

The clock on the wall indicates that it is now well past midnight when Olivia gives it a quick glance before creeping cautiously toward Amanda, heartbreaking sobs emitting from the younger woman's mouth as she stands there and cries. "Hey, sweetheart, I think you're having a bad dream," she says softly, holding her hands out in front of her in a non-threatening gesture. "Is it okay if I help you back over to the couch?"

"It hurts when you do that," Amanda weeps in a slurred tone, lowering her arms down and fixing Olivia with a wary expression. "Stop being so rough with me."

"Honey, I'm not doing anything," Olivia assures her gently as she takes another tentative step forward, feeling an overwhelming degree of sadness and worry at the state her friend is in. "I was sleeping on the couch and so were you. It's just a bad dream."

Amanda tilts her head in apparent bewilderment as if trying to decide what is real and what is not while she stares at Olivia, a waterfall of tangled blonde hair from her ponytail spilling over one shoulder and tears leaking steadily from terrified blue eyes.

"It's okay, sweetheart, let me help you," Olivia whispers in a soothing tone as she reaches out toward the smaller woman with the hope of providing some sort of comfort, and rearing back in shock when Amanda suddenly lunges at her, a shrill scream exploding from her lips.

 _"Don't you dare touch me!"_

Olivia finds herself shoved roughly to the side as Amanda sprints clumsily past her in an effort to escape before tripping over her own feet and sprawling head-first onto the slippery floor with a loud, wounded cry. She instantly scrambles after her co-worker while Amanda rights herself and continues in her frenzied attempts to get away, slipping and sliding on her hands and knees as she crawls into the corner and curls up into a little ball, hiding her tear-streaked face in her folded arms.

When Olivia tries to get closer to make sure Amanda doesn't injure herself again, the younger woman goes wild once more, striking out at her with flailing hands and feet while begging repeatedly to stop being hurt. They grapple on the floor for a few minutes, Olivia grunting with the strain of keeping Amanda from doing any more physical harm to either one of them in her traumatized state, already feeling the bruises blooming in various places on her body from their unexpected wrestling match.

When Amanda's frenetic movements slow momentarily, she spoons the other woman from behind, her arms wrapping loosely around the quivering body as both of them lay there splayed out on the floor and try to catch their breaths. "It's okay, baby, you're safe," Olivia gasps raggedly, the pet name slipping out before she even knows what is being said. "I've got you, it's okay. I promise I won't hurt you."

Amanda seems to develop a second wind at the sound of Olivia's voice, small hands scrabbling at the arms looped around her waist and digging in sharply with her fingernails, eliciting a squawk of pain from Olivia. She is finally able to overpower the thrashing figure by briefly pinning her arms to her sides and then grabbing Amanda in a bear hug, pulling the violently shuddering woman into her lap and rocking her from side to side while she sobs and struggles, continuing to beg and plead not to be hurt. The loud cries and imploring words spilling from Amanda's parted lips are so anguished that Olivia feels tears welling up in her eyes and trailing down her face in response, just barely able to stifle a sob of her own.

"It hurts," Amanda moans in a tortured voice as Olivia presses a damp cheek to her fellow detective's, feeling how hot and wet the skin is as Amanda writhes against her in one last attempt at escape before finally falling still in her embrace.

"Where?" Olivia chokes out as she smooths the rumpled blonde hair that has come loose from Amanda's ponytail back from those big blue eyes and peers down at her friend's distressed expression. "Where does it hurt, baby?"

"Everywhere," Amanda whimpers in reply, Olivia feeling a wave of nausea rush up her throat when she notices the younger woman's hands drifting down between her legs to clutch at her core, as if trying to protect herself from harm or to put a stop to the pain.

"Who hurt you, honey?" she whispers into Amanda's ear as she continues to rock the now-limp form back and forth in an effort to soothe them both. "Was it Charlie?"

Amanda nods slowly and leans back to look at Olivia, biting down hard on her lower lip while they gaze intently at each other, her eyelids red and swollen as she blinks back more tears.

"What did he do to you?" Olivia asks softly, reaching down to gently pull Amanda's hands away from the juncture of her thighs and holding them tightly within her own.

"He raped me," Amanda states in a strangled tone, a tear slipping from Olivia's eye as she listens attentively. "Every chance he got."

A sudden pounding at the door makes them both jump in surprise before Olivia can reply, Amanda letting out a whine of fear and clutching desperately onto the front of Olivia's shirt instead of trying to get away.

"Liv, what the hell is going on in there?!" Mike's worried voice floats through the wooden barrier separating Olivia's apartment from the hallway, and she blows out an overwhelmed breath, her eyes clenching shut at the insistent, frantic knocking that follows. "I tried to call your cell but you didn't pick up. You didn't answer my texts either. Who's screaming? I can hear it through the walls!"

"Everything is fine, Mike!" she calls out, knowing how ridiculous her answer is but needing her intrusive next door neighbor to back off and leave them alone for the time being, especially while Amanda is so fragile and out of sorts.

"Do you need me to call an ambulance or something?" he persists in a worried tone, Olivia gritting her teeth together in frustration.

"No!" she yells back, praying that he will return to his own apartment and let her continue trying to calm Amanda down, pressing a comforting kiss to the younger woman's forehead at the frightened squeak that his suggestion evokes.

Olivia becomes aware of Amanda's garbled voice trying to break through the shouted conversation between her and Mike, the blonde detective sounding absolutely distraught when she speaks. "Liv, he was right before, when he said I wasn't worth it. Look how pathetic I am. Your neighbors can hear me screaming through the walls because of something I brought on myself. I'm a piece of garbage. You need to stay away from me. There are just so many things wrong with me...God, I'm so embarrassed..."

Amanda's voice trails off as she dissolves into broken sobs once again, collapsing heavily into Olivia's body despite her warning to stay away, Olivia's heart breaking at how vehement Amanda's words are, like she truly believes the terrible things she is saying about herself.

"I can't," Olivia replies fiercely, grabbing ahold of Amanda's face so they are staring intensely at one another. "I can't stay away from you and I _won't_ stay away, do you hear me?"

"Because I make you _feel_ things?" Amanda snarls out sarcastically in reply, referring to what Olivia had said at the precinct on Monday, but the amount of venom in her tone weighed down with a crushing agony.

"Yes," Olivia says simply, shrugging her shoulders as a mirthless smile tugs at her lips and another cascade of tears spill from her eyes.

"The only things I should make you feel are pity and disgust," Amanda mutters in a tone chocked full of self-loathing before she jumps again at another harsh knock on the door from Mike.

"You make me feel a lot of things that confuse me; things that I've never felt for another woman before, but pity and disgust don't factor into _any_ of those feelings," Olivia clarifies firmly, elaborating a little further on what she had said in the squad room earlier that week, tears streaming down both of their faces as their eyes remain locked unwaveringly on each other.

She privately acknowledges that this isn't the first time she has felt something for a colleague that goes beyond that of merely co-workers or friendship. Elliot Stabler was the best friend Olivia has ever had and one of the people she had loved most in the world, and although they had never crossed that boundary line, she has to admit that the temptation to do so had been almost overpowering on more than one occasion.

What she feels for Amanda is entirely different, though; her thoughts and emotions completely consumed by the younger woman most of the time, and Olivia dares not put a finger on precisely what this feeling is, at least not at this early stage of their friendship. She is so preoccupied with how Amanda is doing in the aftermath of her terrifying nightmare, those soulful blue eyes boring straight into own brown orbs with an intensity that sends shivers down her spine, that Olivia barely hears Mike's announcement of leaving them alone since they are choosing to ignore him and are obviously fine.

Amanda is still cradled protectively in her lap, Olivia's hands clasped tightly around her waist as they continue staring intently at one another while tears streak down both of their faces, each of their bodies huddled so closely into the other that they might have actually merged into a single being. When Amanda reaches up to cup Olivia's cheek with one hand and wipe away a stray tear with her thumb, she catches the slender fingers in a firm grip and presses a tender kiss onto the digits.

Olivia watches as Amanda's eyes widen in response, an apology immediately poised on her tongue for the unanticipated gesture but unable to get the words out before the smaller woman is leaning forward to cover her mouth with her own. Their lips caress gently together for several seconds, moving with a languid thoroughness and familiarity like they have done this many times in the past and this is not the first, Olivia's thoughts and emotions on overdrive and flinching with surprise when Amanda abruptly pulls away and claps a hand over her mouth.

"I'm so sorry!" the blonde detective gasps, scrambling out of Olivia's lap and getting hastily to her feet on unsteady legs. "I didn't mean to do that. I shouldn't have done that. I really need to go."

Before Olivia can even begin to process what has just happened between them or contemplate how she wants to respond, Amanda is gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**Trigger warnings for mentions of rape in this chapter.**

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Olivia's stomach is tied up in painful knots.

It is late Saturday evening and she is pacing around her apartment with her cell phone clutched tightly in one hand, her mind churning with anxiety as she thinks about Amanda; the younger woman seemingly having taken up permanent residence inside her brain. After enduring yet another sleepless night with no word from Amanda following her swift departure from Olivia's home the night before, she has kept herself busy throughout the day by leaving for a little while to do some groceries and cleaning the entire place from top to bottom when she had returned.

Her phone has either been firmly gripped in her hand or sitting somewhere nearby with the sound turned all the way up, just in case Amanda chooses to make contact with her by calling or texting. Olivia has both called and texted herself several times now, and is disappointed but unsurprised by Amanda's utter lack of response. This weekend seems to be playing out a lot like the previous one had, with Olivia trying desperately to reach Amanda and the other woman determined to ignore her again, despite her recent apologies for doing so.

Thankfully she is not on call for work this time, giving her the opportunity to be available should Amanda need her but refraining from actually going to Amanda's apartment like she had wanted to do the last time this had happened. Olivia is struggling between wanting to give the younger woman her space while she is going through so much personal torment and needing to drive over there and bang on the door until Amanda is forced to talk to her. She has been afraid of coming on too strong and causing Amanda to pull away even further, deciding to back off with her plans of showing up at her fellow detective's home and once again waiting for Amanda to reach out to her.

Despite Olivia's immense worry for her friend and Amanda's heartbreaking revelation the previous night, she can't seem to get their kiss out of her mind; the shared gesture playing over and over on a loop inside her brain as guilt and arousal mix together in a confusing mess of emotions. In spite of the vulnerability that Amanda had shown, there was an eagerness there too; an urge to be as close to Olivia as Olivia wanted to be with her, and she is unable to stop her all-consuming craving for a repeat performance.

As soon as Olivia sets her phone down on the counter so she can open the fridge to search for a late-night snack, it begins ringing; the sound loud and shrill in the dead quiet of the apartment and making her jump with surprise. She whirls away from the fridge to lunge for the device, snatching it up with fumbling fingers and her pulse instantly quickening as she sees the name _Amanda Rollins_ displayed across the screen, the relief that courses through her system nearly enough to bring Olivia to her knees.

That relief is very short-lived, however, her stomach sinking when she answers with a quick, "Hello," and is met with a giant wall of noise instead of a reply from Amanda, the sounds of multiple televisions blaring and a crowd of people cheering, before a somewhat familiar male voice answers.

"Hi, Olivia, I don't know if you remember me but this is Mickey Clark, the bartender at the Dark Horse. We spoke on the phone last weekend."

"Yes, of course I remember," Olivia confirms with a weary sigh, raking a hand back through her long dark waves of hair as she speaks. "And I can only assume you're calling for the same reason."

"I'm afraid so," Mickey says in a serious tone, an ear-piercing whistle cutting right through their conversation before another round of cheers can be heard on his end of the line. "I need you to come and get her before my boss shows up and kicks her out of here for good. She's been causing some trouble in here again tonight."

"I'll be there as soon as I can," Olivia promises swiftly, already mentally cursing the amount of Saturday night traffic she is going to have to fight her way through before she can get to Amanda and belatedly realizing that Mickey is still speaking.

"Look, I know she has her problems, but I like her and I try to look out for her as much as I can," he explains in a raised voice to be heard above all of the background noise. "But when it starts getting really busy in here, it's hard to keep an eye on her. I have a sister with the same issues, the drinking and the gambling and the fighting, so I know how it is. It's tough but you gotta look out for them because they need someone to do that, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Olivia replies softly, feeling a lump rising in her throat as images of her mother and her colleague swirl thorough her mind. "And I really appreciate you looking out for her, Mickey. Thank you so much. Is she okay?"

"She's a bit roughed up right now but she looked that way when she arrived, so I'm not sure what happened before she got here," Mickey answers through another loud burst of cheering from the bar patrons. "Sorry about all the noise. There's a big game going on right now and we're right at the tail end of it. But as I was saying before, she didn't look too good when she got here and immediately got into a fight with one of our regulars. She's curled up on the bathroom floor right now, but I have one of the waitresses staying in there with her until you get here."

 _"Shit,"_ Olivia hisses under her breath, plucking her car keys off the counter and sprinting to grab her jacket from where she had slung it carelessly over the back of the couch when she had returned home from doing groceries. "I'll be there as soon as I possibly can, Mickey. Thank you for taking care of her and please make sure someone stays with her until I get there."

Olivia flies out the door into the hallway right after hanging up with the bartender, her body screaming with pain due to the rapid movement as she clumsily locks her door before whirling around to stride with quick, purposeful steps toward the elevator. She is now decorated with a colorful set of her own bruises that match the wounds she had seen on Amanda's body, a product of their unexpected wrestling match during the younger woman's nightmare; Olivia wincing in discomfort as she stabs repeatedly at the elevator button with one finger.

"Hey there, neighbor, you look a bit upset." A voice that Olivia would now recognize anywhere cuts right through her worried thoughts just as the elevator doors slide open, her eyes squeezing briefly shut before turning around to fix Mike with an impatient expression.

"I'm kind of in a hurry here, so I don't really have time to chat," she says briskly, stepping inside the elevator and holding the door open with her hand even though she would rather let it close right in his face.

"I'm just concerned about you, Liv," Mike replies earnestly with his own hands held up in the air, like he is trying to diffuse a potentially volatile situation before it can start. "Especially after all of that ruckus at your place last night. Where are you heading off to in such a rush?"

"None of your business," she snaps out in response, tapping her foot restlessly against the tiled floor of the elevator as she continues to hold the door open.

"It's about _her_ , isn't it?" Mike answers lightly, his bushy eyebrows lifting in question as he takes a step toward Olivia like he intends on joining her inside the small space.

"So what if it is?" Olivia's voice rises angrily, cursing herself for actually taking the time to engage in conversation with her nosy and overbearing neighbor when she has much more important matters to attend to.

"Liv, I just don't get it," Mike sighs with a dramatic shrug of his shoulders. "Why are you spending so much time with this woman? This...Mandy, I think her name is?"

 _"Amanda,"_ Olivia corrects through tightly clenched teeth, remembering the younger woman's loathing of that particular nickname and bristling when Mike takes another step in her direction. "Her name is Amanda."

"Okay, whatever," he replies with a flippant wave of his hand. "Liv, can you help me understand why you're choosing to spend all of your time coming to this woman's rescue when she's clearly such a mess? Do you have feelings for her or something? Because as far as I know, you don't swing that way. I thought you and I had something good together."

"There's nothing for you to understand," Olivia says with an undercurrent of steel visible in a tone that she is trying very hard to keep pleasant. "Amanda's issues and my sexuality and the way I choose to spend my time are of absolutely no concern to you. And you and I have nothing together, am I making myself perfectly clear? We went on _one_ date, Mike. Our first date and also our last. We are neighbors and nothing more. And if you decide that it's a good idea to keep stalking me, I might just have to do something about it."

A corner of her lip quirks up in satisfaction as she fixes Mike with a deliberate stare and watches him wither under her intense gaze. "Did you get forget where I work, Mike? That I'm a member of the NYPD? Because we don't take too kindly to being stalked."

The older man is noticeably pale now, beads of sweat dotting his forehead as they gaze intently at each other. "Liv, just calm down, alright? I'm not _stalking_ you, for Christ's sake! How can you even say something like that? I'm just worried about you spending so much time with an addict. Can't you see that she's dangerous? She's just going to drag you down with her!"

"Mike, how about you do me a favor and fuck off?" Olivia snarls as she lets the elevator doors shut abruptly in his shocked face, blowing out an exasperated breath as her heart pounds frantically in her chest, the uncomfortable pace due to both their unsettling exchange and how long it's taking her to get to Amanda.

She has to force herself to stay calm in the car as she fights her way through the usual throng of Saturday night traffic and people spilling onto the streets from various bars and restaurants, her nerves almost completely shot when she finally arrives at her destination. Mickey gives her a friendly wave from behind the bar when she gets inside after pushing her way through the crowd, and points down the hall to where Olivia assumes the bathrooms are located. She gives him a grateful nod in return and hurries down the hallway, shoving right through the middle of a group of giggling young women without so much as an apology and ignoring the slurred obscenities that immediately follow.

The bathroom seems to be even more crowded than the bar, and it takes Olivia a moment to locate Amanda's small form huddled on a corner of the dirty floor, frowning when she sees that Amanda appears to be by herself and barking at everyone else to get the hell out of her way as she rushes toward her.

"Hey, sweetheart, it's okay, I'm here," she soothes softly as she kneels down on the floor in front of the other woman, her heart aching at Amanda's vulnerable appearance.

The blonde detective is quite clearly inebriated, Amanda swaying unsteadily even in a sitting position, and those familiar bruises standing out along her arms in stark contrast to her pale skin, like someone had grabbed her roughly once again, Olivia frowning deeply at the reddish-purple smudge that is also visible on a prominent cheekbone. She had obviously made an effort with her appearance that night; clad in a deep blue dress that perfectly matches her eyes, makeup that was likely flawless when she had left her apartment earlier but is now smudged, and golden hair falling in loose, messy waves around her shoulders.

There is an anguished but appreciative look in those hazy cobalt orbs when she seems to recognize that Olivia is now there with her, reaching trembling arms toward her in much the same way that she had after Olivia's suggestion to get her tucked into bed the weekend before. She obliges right away, taking Amanda into her embrace and holding the slender figure tenderly against her chest, Olivia's heart fluttering when she feels Amanda's arms winding sloppily around her neck to pull her even closer.

Amanda is showing no signs of hesitation or uncomfortable behavior around her like she had the night prior, and Olivia shifts slightly on the scuffed floor to enfold the younger woman more securely into her body, frowning when they are jostled roughly by a couple of drunk women and realizing that this isn't exactly the ideal place to have a conversation. Despite their current location, she leans forward and puts her lips right next to her fellow detective's ear so Amanda can hear her properly, feeling a shiver run through the small frame in return.

"Is this going to become a weekly occurrence now?" Olivia asks gently and without judgment, stroking her fingers through fine blonde hair as she feels a sharp stab of guilt. "I thought you said you've been doing better with everything lately. Is this because of what happened last night? Is that why you're sitting on the floor in the bathroom of a bar with new bruises on your arms and face?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about things so I had to leave my apartment and go out to do something," Amanda mumbles drunkenly into Olivia's shoulder, hot breath ruffling her dark hair. "I came in here so that guy would stop sticking his hand underneath my dress. There's no men allowed in here, Liv. It's safer in here than it is out there."

 _"What?"_ Olivia rears back and tries to get Amanda to meet her gaze, watching as the other woman's eyes wander lazily around the crowded room, grasping onto Amanda's chin and turning her head to force her to make eye contact. "Who put his hand under your dress?" she demands sternly, softening her tone when Amanda begins shrinking away from her. "Tell me who it was, honey. Did he give you those bruises too?"

"No, that was someone else. And I don't know who this guy was," Amanda replies vaguely, with a limp wave of her hand. "Just some random dude. He wasn't one of the regulars and he's gone now. He left earlier. It doesn't really matter, though, Liv. It's okay."

"It's _not_ okay," Olivia says firmly, her heart aching as she observes the tiny, fragile figure cuddled into her chest and resting her cheek on Amanda's bent head. "You know better than to say something like that, Amanda, especially with the kind of job we do on a daily basis."

She thinks back to how adamant Amanda was at not being touched the night before during her horrific nightmare and wonders what had changed in the interim but guessing that alcohol is playing a large part in it. "What makes you think that it's okay for someone to do something like that to you?" She pauses briefly before speaking again, her tone slightly choked. "Why do you think so little of yourself?"

"Because it's all my fault and I deserve it," Amanda responds simply with a shrug of her shoulders.

"You don't deserve to be touched in a way that you don't want to be touched, sweetheart," Olivia chastises her gently, feathering some errant strands of blonde hair away from Amanda's eyes. "And what's all your fault?"

"Everything." Amanda's reply is so quiet in the din of the crowded and overflowing washroom that Olivia has to lean even closer to hear her. "Everything is always my fault, so if some guy tries to feel me up under my dress, that must be my fault too."

"Honey, you're not making any sense." Olivia has to swallow against a large lump that has risen inside her throat. "Nothing about being inappropriately touched is ever your fault, okay? And where is the waitress who was supposed to be staying with you until I got here? You weren't supposed to be left all by yourself in this condition."

"I'm not by myself, Liv." Amanda gestures around them to the packed room filled with women of all ages, some of whom are laughing uproariously and staggering around in a drunken manner as they reapply their makeup and two of them engaged in a passionate make-out session against one of the closed stall doors. "And the waitress had to get back out there. She's busy. She doesn't have time to watch over me. And I don't _need_ someone to take care of me. I'm an adult and I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a long time now."

Olivia refrains from commenting any further on the situation and loops her arms underneath Amanda's to begin hoisting the slumped form into an upright position. "Come on, baby, let's get you off the floor," she murmurs comfortingly, not even taking notice of the pet name that slips out yet again from her lips. "We're going to get your phone back from the bartender and then go out to my car, okay? I'm going to take you home and get you tucked into bed."

"You can tuck yourself in right next to me after you help me out of this dress, Liv," Amanda whispers sensually into her ear as they stagger clumsily to their feet together, an unexpected wave of arousal washing over Olivia in response. "I want you to hold me all night. I don't want to be alone."

"I'll hold you for as long as you want but that's _all_ we'll be doing tonight, are you clear on that?" Olivia replies stiffly, turning her head away when she feels Amanda plant a wet, sloppy kiss on the side of her neck and admonishing her lightly while trying to ignore that ever-growing lust and desire that is building up inside.

It takes several minutes to fight their way through the crowd, Olivia's arms wrapped tightly around Amanda's waist and the younger woman clinging onto her for dear life like she might go tumbling straight to the floor if Olivia lets go. They stop off at the bar to pick up Amanda's phone from Mickey, Olivia thanking him profusely again and questioning the younger man about anyone he had seen acting in an inappropriate manner toward Amanda. Aside from the usual crew that Amanda apparently spars with on a regular basis, he hadn't seen anyone or anything out of the ordinary, Olivia thanking him again and vowing to talk more about this incident with her co-worker when she is not quite so inebriated.

By the time Olivia gets Amanda buckled securely into the passenger side of her car and has gotten settled into the driver's seat beside her, she is sweating with the effort, her heart pounding with a combination of immense worry and that persistent, unwelcome arousal. Amanda is curled up into a tight little ball on the next seat and facing toward Olivia, the other woman gazing intently at her with heavy-lidded eyes as she guides the car with expert precision into the heavy flow of traffic.

Amanda's legs are tucked up beneath her, the beautiful dress covering her knees like a blanket, soft blonde hair fluffed around her face and spread out atop Olivia's jacket that is draped over her shoulders. She had again given Amanda her coat before helping her into the car, the smaller woman apparently not taking enough care to dress for the chilly weather and Olivia noticing the goosebumps lining her arms and legs as she had gotten her colleague settled into her seat.

"Can I hold your hand, Liv?" The question is spoken with a tentative softness like Amanda is afraid of being rejected, Olivia reminded of when she had asked the exact same question the night before with similar hesitation.

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Amanda's hand reaching slowly into the space between them, pale arm glowing in the streetlights that pass by outside the darkened interior of the vehicle. Olivia meets Amanda's gesture halfway, keeping one hand on the steering wheel while she grasps onto Amanda's warm hand with the other and threads their fingers together.

A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she listens to Amanda's sigh of contentment and feels the younger woman giving their joined hands a squeeze, her heart clenching at the quiet vulnerability of Amanda's next words.

"Do you think I look pretty tonight, Liv?"

"Yes, honey, I think you look very pretty," Olivia assures her with a soft sincerity, squeezing back and refraining from raising their entwined fingers to her lips so she can plant a tender kiss on Amanda's skin. "You always look beautiful and tonight is no exception."

"Really? You think I'm beautiful?" There is a note of doubtful awe evident in Amanda's tone, the lump that has been residing in Olivia's throat seeming to grow larger the longer they converse.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen," she replies with a stark honestly, listening to the sharp catch in Amanda's breathing. "And I've thought so since the moment I first laid eyes on you in the squad room. You are beautiful both inside and out."

"I did something bad tonight," Amanda suddenly blurts out in somewhat of a slurred, guilt-ridden tone, sounding very close to tears as Olivia looks over at her in surprise, their discussion taking a swift turn. "I got all dressed up and went to the gay bar that's just down the street from the sports bar. I wanted...I guess I just wanted to forget everything for one night and I felt so bad for running away after we kissed and for ignoring you again. There was a woman in there who looked a lot like you and I...flirted...with her."

"It's okay, honey, you didn't do anything wrong," Olivia soothes gently, brushing her thumb in slow circles across the back of Amanda's hand and trying to push down the instant swell of jealousy that is so acute it nearly takes her breath away. "We're not dating each other. And I was out on a date myself at this time last week."

"Well, actually, I _did_ do something wrong," Amanda answers with a mirthless chuckle. "This woman didn't tell me she had a girlfriend and when the girlfriend arrived and saw me flirting with her, she swung her arm out to hit me. I tried to duck out of the way, but she caught my cheek with her ring. And I hit her right back."

Amanda lets out another laugh that is completely devoid of humor, and what sounds like a strangled sob emits from her mouth. "God, I just fuck everything up all the time. I can't even flirt without getting punched and I run away when I finally get to kiss the woman I-"

Olivia throws the blonde detective a perplexed glance as Amanda abruptly cuts herself off, her brow furrowing at the heated blush that is making its way up her friend's neck and into her face. "The woman you what? What were you going to say?"

"Nothing," Amanda mumbles in reply, yanking her hand away from Olivia's and curling into a tighter ball on the seat as she folds her arms across her chest. "After that woman hit me, I left to go watch the game with everyone at the sports bar. I was trying so hard not to gamble; I was just going to watch, but then that guy from last week started pressuring me to place bets and the other guy was getting all handsy with me, grabbing my arms and reaching under my dress..."

Amanda's voice trails off and Olivia watches as she turns over roughly in her seat, burying her head against the passenger side door as blonde hair tumbles around her shoulders. "God, I feel sick. I'm such a disaster. All I seem to do is embarrass myself in front of you, Olivia. Just drop me off here and go home."

"I'm not just pulling over to the side of the road and letting you out this late at night," Olivia replies sharply, reaching out to run a hand down Amanda's trembling back. "Will you please turn around and look at me? We have a lot to talk about here, Amanda. This kind of thing can't keep happening. The drinking, the gambling, people hurting you and touching you inappropriately, how you don't feel alive most of the time and have to do these things to numb yourself. It's got to stop. You need to get some help before things get any more out of control than they already are."

"I don't want to talk about anything." Amanda's voice is muffled when she speaks, the small detective apparently refusing to turn around as her back remains to Olivia. "And I don't need any help. I can handle everything on my own."

"So this is how you're choosing to handle things, then?" Olivia snaps pointedly, her brow furrowing when Amanda turns slightly in her seat with her eyes clenched tightly shut and she notices where the younger woman's hands are positioned.

"Hey, hey, what's going on, honey?" Olivia softens her tone and glances in the rear view mirror before directing the car over to the curb and turning off the engine, jostling her co-worker with her hand to try and get her attention. "Amanda, look at me. What's happening right now?"

Amanda's expression is pinched, her breath coming out in short pants and her hands tucked up underneath her dress, clutching hard at the juncture of her thighs. "It hurts," she gasps out, a long, low whimper quickly following this statement.

"Come here, baby, it's okay." Olivia reaches out toward the other woman with the intention of pulling her hands away from herself and enveloping her into a comforting embrace, but Amanda squirms away from her again and plasters her body to the inside of the car door with a frightened shriek.

"Let me out!" she begs brokenly as slender fingers scrabble with frantic clumsiness at the lock. "Get away from me! Stop hurting me!"

Olivia quickly throws open the driver's side door and dashes around the front of the vehicle to the passenger side, yanking Amanda's door open and the younger woman practically falling into her lap as she kneels down on the curb in an attempt to stop what she assumes is a flashback. She takes Amanda into her arms, cradling the small, quivering form against her chest and murmuring soothing words into her ear, assuring her repeatedly that she is safe and relieved when Amanda doesn't try to pull away from her again.

The other woman is now slumped so heavily into her body that it's a struggle for Olivia to remain upright and keep her balance, Amanda whimpering softly into her neck as the stench of alcohol and cigarettes permeate the air around them. She squeezes onto the seat next to Amanda so that her friend is now halfway into her lap and shuts the door to envelop them in the quiet darkness of the car, hiding their entwined bodies away from the prying eyes of passerby on the sidewalk.

They sit that way for several minutes, Amanda struggling to get herself under control while Olivia continues to whisper comfortingly to her colleague, feeling overcome with a strong sense of protectiveness and care and something else that has been tiptoeing around the corners of her brain lately. Amanda surprises her by climbing fully into her lap once her breathing has evened out and she has stopped whimpering, Olivia's arms tightening around her and swaying them both back and forth on the seat in a pacifying manner.

"What happened?" she finally asks quietly, pressing a kiss to the crown of Amanda's head. "Did you have a flashback?"

Amanda nods silently but doesn't elaborate any further, instead burying herself more firmly into Olivia's body.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she prods gently, scratching her fingernails lightly against the younger woman's scalp.

"You're the only one I can stand touching me, Liv." Amanda's voice is so soft it is nearly inaudible as she tilts her head back so Olivia is staring down into huge blue eyes full of anguish, her heart aching at the sight of another bruise. "That man touching me in the bar just reminded me of how things used to be...how that kind of thing happened all the time in Atlanta. I always had to wear dresses when I was alone with him because it gave him easier access."

"When you were alone with Charlie?" Olivia's heart is breaking, recalling the remark that Amanda had made the night before about bringing this on herself; that she was somehow at fault for her own rape, and she wonders what the other woman had meant by that.

"I like wearing a dress with you, though, Liv," Amanda mumbles drunkenly, completely ignoring the question and Olivia struggling to keep up with the twists and turns this discussion is taking. "You make me safe and you make me feel pretty. And I like when you touch me. It feels good and right and my skin doesn't crawl. Even though I know I'll never be good enough for you, it's okay if you want to."

"If I want to what?" Olivia asks warily, pulling back as much as she can in order to see Amanda better in the shadowy darkness of the car, her heart striking up a nervous rhythm inside her chest.

"Touch me," Amanda replies simply with a casual shrug, taking Olivia's hand into her own and placing it against her breast.

"Oh sweetheart, that's not going to happen," Olivia says very softly, carefully removing her hand and trying to ignore the tingling sensation in her palm as she strokes Amanda's hair away from her forehead. "You've just suffered through a flashback and you've had a horrible night out and you can't possibly give consent right now."

"But I'm giving you my consent; you just heard me give it," Amanda protests in return, her chin beginning to tremble and giant tears welling up in her eyes. "Being with you is the only thing that makes me feel alive, Liv. You make everything better, like there's a tiny bit of light in all the darkness. You make me forget about all the bad things in life. And I'm sorry for running away last night. I won't do it again, I promise."

"Honey, you running away has nothing to do with it," Olivia explains gently, smoothing her fingers around the bruise on Amanda's cheekbone. "And I'm not angry with you. I want to help you. I want to be there for you while you deal with all of these things. But not in that way."

"But you said I make you feel things," Amanda whispers in a hushed, ragged tone, the rejection quite evident in her voice and Olivia desperate to fix it.

"You _do_ make me feel things," Olivia assures her, grasping onto both sides of Amanda's face now as she rubs her thumbs back and forth across heated skin. "And I meant to say not in that way right _now_. But there is plenty of time in the future, if that's what we decide to do." She slides her fingers over to hold onto Amanda's chin and can't resist leaning in to place a light, tender kiss on her lips. "And you are more than good enough for me, Amanda. Please don't ever think that you're not."

Amanda hums into her mouth as she deepens the kiss and Olivia lets her do it despite what has just taken place between them, momentarily giving into the deep and all-consuming feelings that she has for the woman in her lap; this woman who is both fragile and strong and has evoked emotions of a magnitude that she didn't even know she was capable of. Their lips continue to caress gently together in a soothing, unhurried manner, the gesture meant to convey comfort and a hope that they will one day be able to move forward with each other in a healthy way, until Olivia tastes a salty wetness on her tongue and realizes that Amanda is crying.

When she pulls back to look at her fellow detective, Amanda sitting there broken and bruised and her face awash in tears, that fragility and strength seemingly at war with one another as she bravely fights her demons, Olivia can finally acknowledge to herself that what she feels is love.


	9. Chapter 9

**We're back to Amanda's point of view in this chapter. Trigger warnings for mentions of rape. This chapter picks up right where the previous one left off. **

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Amanda cannot seem to stop crying no matter how hard she tries.

A lifetime's worth of sadness and despair and trauma are pouring out of her with no signs of abating anytime soon as she sits there curled into a shaking ball of drunken misery in the passenger seat of Olivia's car. They are finally on the move again after Amanda had convinced Olivia that she was doing better following her flashback of Charles Patton, the older woman slowly directing the vehicle through hellish Saturday night traffic as they make their way to Amanda's apartment building.

Having initially begun as a trickle of salty liquid streaking her cheeks, the tears had started up in earnest as soon as Olivia had pulled away from the curb, Amanda repeatedly assuring her that it isn't necessary to pull over again as she struggles to get herself together. She is torn between wanting to continue taking comfort from her fellow detective as slender fingers scrabble frantically at Olivia's arm while she drives, and yanking the car door open so she can leap from the moving vehicle and escape this awkward and embarrassing situation.

Olivia keeps one hand off the steering wheel as much as she can in order to let Amanda hold onto it, and while she is very appreciative of the gesture and keeps tightening her grip on the warm hand that is larger than her own but seems to fit perfectly in her grasp, she is unable to shed the mortification that is clinging to her like a second skin. Olivia is speaking very softly and soothingly to her while she navigates her way through the streets of New York and Amanda concentrates as hard as she can on the calmness of her friend's voice, trying not think of the kiss they had just shared or her ridiculous suggestion of taking things further between them.

"He told me that I should stay away from you because I'm damaged," she mumbles in a slurred tone, remembering her confrontation with Olivia's neighbor in the elevator the previous evening, as well as the horrific nightmare she had suffered hours afterwards, and coming to the conclusion yet again that he is right. "He said I could have anyone I wanted because I'm young and pretty, so I should leave you alone."

"Who told you that, honey?" Olivia sounds like she is speaking through clenched teeth because she already knows the answer, the pacifying quality of her voice replaced with anger and resentment.

"Mike," Amanda weeps as the tears come faster and she pulls her hand away from Olivia's to cover her face in shame. "God, I hate myself. I'm so sorry for doing this to you, Liv. You shouldn't have to put up with me."

"You're not doing anything to me, sweetheart," Olivia assures her firmly, Amanda feeling smooth fingers briefly grazing her own as she continues to hide her tormented expression from the woman she loves. "I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't want to be. And he won't be bothering either one of us anymore, I promise you that."

Amanda nods gratefully, her hands drifting away from her face to hover at the juncture of her thighs again as she is overcome with more unwanted memories, the images repeatedly assaulting her brain on a confusing, unending loop. "He used to touch me in the elevator sometimes, if we were alone."

"Mike?" Olivia sounds puzzled for a moment, like she isn't quite following the twists and turns of the conversation, before realization seems to kick in and her voice softens with concern. "Or are you talking about Charlie, honey?"

"Anytime it was just the two of us alone somewhere, even if it was just for a few minutes, he would do something to me," Amanda whispers through her tears as both horror and regret intertwine so tightly with each another that it is hard to differentiate between the two, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress before sliding underneath. "I still can't believe he never got caught...and I never told anyone. There were so many times I could have said something but I chose not to..."

Trembling hands are clutching onto her core once again, stunned at the physical pain that she can still feel radiating throughout her nether regions even after all of this time; the pain as fresh as if it were taking place right at this very second. "It hurts, Liv. God, it hurts so much. Why can't I make it stop? Why won't it ever just _stop_?"

"Give me your hand, sweetheart," Olivia instructs urgently, Amanda's head bowing down and her long blonde hair obscuring her expression as she sobs brokenly and feels the older woman's fingers grasping insistently onto her elbow. "Just hold onto me, okay?"

"He was so rough with me, Liv." Amanda is moaning and whimpering as Olivia's hand slides up and down her forearm, rubbing gently and giving her a light squeeze. "I always did what he wanted but he was still so rough. It hurt so much."

"I'm so sorry, Amanda." Olivia's voice is hushed and ragged when she speaks again, like the brunette is fighting back tears of her own and is trying to remain calm. "I'm so sorry for what he put you through, but Charlie isn't here right now, okay? It's just you and me in this car and we're going to be home very soon. We're going to get you tucked into bed, all warm and safe, and I'm not going to leave your side for the rest of the night. No one is hurting you right now, baby."

Olivia's words finally seem to penetrate through the drunken, traumatized fog in Amanda's brain, and she slips a hand out from beneath her dress to lace her fingers through the slender digits of her fellow detective, holding on tightly until they pull up in front of her building. As soon as the car is parked at the curb and Olivia shuts the engine off, Amanda holds her arms out toward her friend in a desperate plea for comfort, the other woman obliging immediately and leaning over to take Amanda into her warm embrace.

She sobs against her colleague's shoulder for several minutes, the tears pouring out in a seemingly unending waterfall of emotion and Olivia's body shaking slightly against her own, as if the older woman has succumbed to the urge to start crying herself. Amanda is a complete mess when she pulls away so that Olivia can begin helping her inside, barely able to stay on her feet and slumping so heavily into the taller form beside her that Olivia might as well be carrying her.

It is quite the long and arduous process as they very carefully make their way from the car into the building, riding up several floors to Amanda's apartment in an elevator that appears to be holding on for dear life, the metal box creaking and shaking alarmingly as it ascends, and each woman breathing a sigh of relief when the doors open with a low whine and expel them onto Amanda's floor. They are both out of breath when they finally reach their destination, Amanda letting Olivia walk her straight back to her bedroom and deposit her gently on the mattress without uttering a word in protest, glad to have Olivia take charge of the situation since she is still a quivering, sobbing bundle of intense emotion.

Amanda sits there trembling on the edge of the bed, nauseated and lightheaded, long blonde hair hanging down around her face in a tangled curtain and hiding her tormented expression from Olivia, who she can hear rifling through her dresser drawers in search of something for her to wear to sleep. This is the point where she should become annoyed and offended for being treated like a child, since it appears that her colleague is fully intending on getting Amanda ready for bed and tucking her in, just like she had the previous weekend, but she doesn't have the strength or energy to object or complain right now.

Olivia's presence in her home makes her feel safe and secure as those horrific memories of the past continue to haunt her mind, and the fresh injuries that she had sustained during her trip to both the gay bar and the sports bar that night, as well as her impromptu wrestling match with Olivia the night before, are still tingling with pain. Amanda straightens up as much as she is able when Olivia walks over to the bed with a set of pajamas slung over one arm and kneels down on the floor in front of her, placing a tender hand on Amanda's knee, her thumb rubbing in soothing circles across bare skin as the beautiful blue dress rides up her thighs.

They lapse into an odd, unsettled sort of silence for a moment, no one speaking as brown eyes bore intently into blue, and Amanda is once more overcome by a tidal wave of love for this woman who has dropped everything to come to her rescue yet again. Olivia somehow has the power to make her feel wanted and pretty and seems to possess the uncanny ability to make her skin stop crawling as those persistent images from her past play through her mind on a never-ending loop of horror.

The deep emotions rising up inside of Amanda's inebriated body and coming out through her uncoordinated limbs are seemingly unable to be contained, as she is suddenly desperate to show this woman how much she means to her; that Olivia is indeed her sole reason for being alive and deserves everything she can possibly give her, both in body and soul. Despite Olivia's gentle and temporary rejection of her drunk and sloppy advances in the car, along with her own embarrassment and shame, Amanda decides to try again by reaching wobbly arms out in front of her with the intention of enveloping Olivia into a tight embrace.

The older woman appears to take this as an invitation to help Amanda out of her dress and into her pajamas, Amanda nodding with shaky consent when Olivia asks if it's okay to assist her, and letting her fellow detective reach around behind her to unzip the dress. Olivia peels the garment slowly away from her quaking body, Amanda watching as her co-worker winces when the new bruises come into view and then tries to quickly cover up her reaction by glancing away and giving a short cough.

Amanda pulls back in dissent when Olivia tries to lower the pajama shirt over her head, not wanting to go to bed in the uncomfortable set of matching underwear that she had chosen specifically to wear with this dress; the underwire of the lacy blue and white bra digging into her ribs and the coordinating panties pulling too tightly around her most intimate area. She struggles to wriggle out of her silky undergarments in her drunken and clumsy state, noticing the slight widening of Olivia's eyes as the other woman moves slightly backwards as if to give Amanda some space and privacy.

"Stay here," Amanda murmurs in a pleading tone, watery blue eyes that are still shedding the occasional tear locked onto the taller figure hovering nearby, terrified that Olivia is going to abandon her when she is at her lowest and most vulnerable. "Don't leave me, Liv."

"I'm not going anywhere," Olivia replies softly, although her voice sounds somewhat strained, as if she can't quite make up her mind on what the appropriate response should be. "Let me help you put these on, honey."

Amanda is swaying unsteadily on the edge of the mattress, stark naked and shivering, as Olivia hesitantly advances toward her again with the pajamas held limply in one hand, those huge dark eyes fixed on her with an unreadable expression. The older woman is kneeling in front of her once more, holding the pajama shirt in the air between them in an apparent offering, but instead of ducking her head inside the garment, Amanda takes a deep breath and leans forward to press her lips against Olivia's.

A sharp gasp is expelled into her mouth, Olivia's lips caressing tenderly over her own for a moment before the brunette is pulling her face away in protest, her hands clutching tightly onto Amanda's bare knees. "Remember what I told you in the car? We shouldn't be doing this right now." Olivia's voice is low and gentle with a firm warning residing underneath, Amanda's breath catching in her throat again when Olivia leans toward her once more but instead of meeting her lips, she kisses the remaining tears from Amanda's face while stroking a thumb over the darkening bruise on her cheekbone.

"I wanna be with you," Amanda slurs as a stray tear drips off her chin and splashes onto her bare thigh, watching as Olivia's gaze seems to follow the trajectory of the liquid before she wrenches her eyes back up to Amanda's as if in guilt of taking in the nudity displayed before her. "I need you to hold me."

Amanda can no longer seem to sit upright on the bed and slumps forward dramatically, Olivia scooting closer to catch her with a gasped, "Whoa!" emitting from her lips and Amanda's head lolling weakly on the strong shoulder of the other woman. She loops her shaky arms around Olivia's ribs and breathes in her sweet scent, heavy eyelids fluttering shut as a certain amount of calm descends upon her, Amanda turning her face to place a lingering kiss of gratitude on the side of Olivia's neck.

"Amanda, I'm more than happy to hold you for the rest of the night, if that's what you want, but you need to put your pajamas on first," Olivia says quietly, Amanda snuggling in further to the warm, curvy body that is bracing her so solidly and keeping her from slipping to the floor in an ungraceful heap of twisted limbs and wild hair.

"Because you can't trust yourself with me when I'm not wearing anything? You don't think you can keep your hands to yourself?" The hands that Amanda is referring to are currently sweeping in wide, slow circles around her back, inducing pleasant shivers from head to toe, even though she is pretty sure the gesture is only meant to bring comfort and nothing more. "Because you don't have to, you know. You don't have to keep your hands to yourself. I already said it was okay. I already gave you my consent in the car."

"And I already told you that you can't possibly give consent right now," Olivia replies in a slightly raised tone, like she is very intent on getting her point across. "You are drunk and traumatized, and I found you huddled on the bathroom floor of a bar not that long ago. The only thing we'll be doing for the remainder of the night is sleeping, is that understood?"

Amanda responds by placing another soft kiss on the side of Olivia's neck, tasting the slightest hint of salt there, like the older woman has begun sweating from either stress or arousal, and Amanda only wants to soothe her colleague like Olivia has been trying to soothe her, resting her lips against the heated skin before running her tongue along its goosebumped length.

She hears a sharp intake of breath and finds herself being pushed swiftly away from her co-worker's body, jerking in surprise at the speed with which Olivia tries to remove herself from her grasp, although the brunette's hands are still holding onto her bare upper arms, fingers curled around her biceps in a none-too-gentle grip. "Amanda, _stop_."

She comes to an instant halt on the mattress, trembling hands now clutching hastily onto the sheets for balance as her naked legs hang limply over the side, feet scrabbling for purchase on the slippery floor below. Amanda's mouth is hanging slightly agape as she stares intently at Olivia's conflicted expression and recognizes so many different emotions playing out over those beautiful features; sadness, anger, regret, arousal, and...

Amanda blinks hard when she thinks she can spot something else; something that couldn't possibly be true and has only been entertained in her wildest fantasies, something that briefly obliterates the need and the torment and every other emotion that is flashing wildly across Olivia's face. For a split second she is convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that what she can see is _love_ blooming through the confusing mixture of all those other emotions; that what Olivia feels for Amanda goes far beyond the simpler urges to start dating or have sex but actually matches what she herself feels.

Whatever Amanda thinks she sees disappears an instant later and is replaced by the no-nonsense detective she is used to working with at the precinct; the stern and unflappable woman she has admired since the first article she had read about Olivia Benson back in Atlanta. Through the blurry haze of alcohol, she simultaneously realizes that what she is doing is wrong and is beyond horrified to feel a pool of wetness residing at the juncture of her bare thighs; an immense stab of guilt piercing Amanda's heart for trying to push herself on Olivia and feeling aroused while doing so, especially when the other woman has made it clear that nothing can happen between them right now.

She turns away with a stifled cry, covering her mouth with a shuddering hand as her eyes slam closed and she claws at the sheets to cover her nude body before Olivia can see the embarrassing evidence of her desire. "God, I'm sorry, Olivia, I'm so sorry," she gasps out in a strangled tone. "You already told me to stop in the car. I just thought- I just thought..." Amanda is choking over her words and her shame as she struggles to properly articulate the situation, but the copious amount of booze she had ingested earlier seems to be overtaking all coherent thought at the moment.

"You just thought what?" Olivia asks gently, those stern features softening and Amanda scooting away with a squeak as the older woman steps closer and leans over the bed, unable to cover herself with her clumsy hands and finally abandoning her efforts and curling up into a tiny ball of distress on top of the mattress.

She hides her face in the sheets as the tears that have just begun to abate start up in earnest once again, sobbing for so many reasons that she can't even remember what half of them are, aware that Olivia's hand is stroking tenderly over her back again, those long fingers making soothing patterns on her heated skin.

"Amanda, let me help you get changed and then I'll get into bed with you and hold you all night." A blanket is being pulled over Amanda's crumpled body to hide her nudity while Olivia speaks, and she wishes the nest of blankets would just suck her inside and swallow her whole, enabling her to disappear entirely from this mortifying situation.

"No, no, you need to stay away from me," Amanda weeps loudly, her voice muffled by the covers as she snuggles deeper into the mattress. "You need to get away from me and go home. I'm sorry, Olivia, I'm sorry for what I did."

"Amanda, with all due respect, there is no way in hell I'm leaving you alone for the rest of the night in this condition," Olivia replies firmly and then pauses for a moment as if a thought has occurred to her. "Would it make you feel better if I slept on the couch instead? That way I'm still in the apartment if you need me but we won't be sharing a bed or sleeping in the same room."

Amanda takes several seconds to contemplate this suggestion before nodding slowly and allowing the taller woman to heft her carefully into a sitting position, keeping her gaze averted as Olivia helps her into the set of pajamas and praying the brunette doesn't notice how wet she is. Olivia's hand strokes repeatedly over her rumpled blonde hair when Amanda is fully clothed again, silence descending upon the bedroom as if neither woman can find the right words to say.

Finally Olivia pulls away and tells her that she'll make up a bed for herself on the couch, vacating the room before Amanda can offer her colleague a pair of pajamas for the night so she doesn't have to sleep in her jeans and sweater. She watches Olivia walk away through tear-filled eyes, another sob tugging her mouth down at the corner and firmly swallowing back any sound before it can come bursting from her throat in another torrent of emotion.

Amanda curls onto her side in the darkness as she listens to Olivia settling down for the night in the living room, wishing she hadn't sent the older woman away and wanting more than anything to have those comforting arms wrapped around her again.

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Darkness is still permeating the apartment when Amanda's eyelids crack open and she struggles to awaken from a disjointed, disturbing slumber, her mouth dry as a desert and her stomach roiling unpleasantly. The glowing numbers on the clock resting on the nightstand indicate that it is just after four o'clock in the morning, Amanda's stomach turning over violently as soon as she moves even the slightest amount on the wrinkled sheets. There is layer of sweat pasting her pajamas to her body, damp strands of hair stuck to her cheeks, and her heart is pounding erratically inside her chest with the frantic need to be sick.

She practically vaults off the mattress in her haste to make it into the bathroom on time, tripping over her own feet before righting herself and stumbling into the hallway while the dim walls of the apartment spin around her in a dizzying array of shapes and shadows. Amanda collapses onto the floor in front of the toilet and expels the contents of stomach over and over again before the spasms finally seem to stop, sitting back on her heels and breathing raggedly while dragging an arm over her moist forehead.

After brushing her teeth and washing her face and shedding her wet pajamas in a pile on the floor in favor of the fluffy purple robe hanging from the back of the door, Amanda creeps out into the hallway with the intention of tucking herself back into bed as quietly as possible. She remembers that Olivia had decided to stay on the couch and can hear the older woman turning over roughly on the cushions and muttering under her breath while she sleeps, trying her best to not to wake her and hoping to be sucked back down beneath the black veil of unconsciousness within moments; desperate to let go of the guilt she still feels for the way she had treated her co-worker earlier.

A noise from the living room makes Amanda stop dead in her tracks at the doorway to her bedroom, whirling around and quickly regretting that decision when she almost vomits again. Hands clapped firmly over her mouth, she tiptoes into the other room and peers over the side of the couch to see Olivia moving restlessly on the cushions, her feet kicking out at some unseen intruder and a whimper emitting from parted lips.

Amanda's heart clenches sharply at the heartbreaking sound, startled to see Olivia lying there in nothing but a white tank top and striped panties, her jeans and sweater folded up neatly on a nearby chair and a blanket pooled down around her ankles. The older woman's long wavy hair is spread out across the pillow and lying in a wild dark mane around her head as she shifts violently and calls out for her mother in a broken voice, Amanda remembering when this had happened the previous weekend.

She immediately drops to her knees in front of the sofa, feeling like she has sobered up quite a bit over the past few hours and very careful not to do anything to make Olivia feel uncomfortable, especially while in the midst of a nightmare. Amanda's only intention is to provide the same solace and security that Olivia has repeatedly shown her over the past week, reaching up to lay a tender hand on her friend's forehead and frowning at the amount of heat that seems to be radiating from the other woman's skin.

"Liv, wake up, honey, it's just a bad dream," she says softly, smoothing her fingers through thick hair that feels like silk to the touch. "It's okay. Just open your eyes for me."

Olivia lets out a loud moan in response, like she is in pain, and Amanda's face crumples with impending tears at the agonized sound, determined not to start crying again while she is trying to comfort her colleague.

"It's okay, sweetheart, everything is okay," she murmurs quietly, even though this statement could not be further from the truth considering everything that has happened lately, continuing to stroke her hand over Olivia's head before sliding down to squeeze her shoulder and letting her fingertips trace back and forth across her upper arm.

Olivia is mumbling something about her mother under her breath, Amanda straining to make out the nearly inaudible words, and wincing with sympathy when they become more clear and she realizes that Olivia is begging her mother to stop hurting her. A similar scene had played out in her bed the weekend prior, with Olivia being terrorized by nightmares of this woman, and Amanda is more curious and concerned than she already was about her friend's past; a past that doesn't really know much about.

She occasionally forgets that they haven't known each other for very long, not longer than a few months, actually, even though Amanda feels like she has known Olivia ever since she had picked up that first newspaper article with the older woman's gorgeous picture decorating the top of the page and her name mentioned many times throughout the report and hadn't been able to stop reading; devouring every piece of information she could find on her after that. They are still in the beginning stages of their friendship or whatever this is; this relationship that definitely goes far beyond that of just colleagues, considering how intimate they have been with each other over the past week, both physically and emotionally.

Amanda knows they have barely begun to scratch the surface of their personal lives, especially Olivia's, and they still have much to learn about each other's pasts and families and even what is going on in the present, as she had been surprised to find out that Olivia was on a date the previous weekend. There is plenty of time for the two of them to begin opening up to one another, even though there are many aspects of Amanda's life that she would prefer to keep to herself, but right now she just wants to concentrate on Olivia; on putting forth all of her energy to make those heartbreaking sounds stop and to pull her from the tormenting dream.

"Wake up, honey," she repeats in a soothing tone, leaning over to press a light kiss to Olivia's forehead and trailing a tender thumb beneath her closed eyelid, smiling slightly in relief as she watches that eye flutter open and fix her with a sleepy, confused look.

"'Manda, what's wrong?" Olivia mumbles in a garbled voice, stretching her arms above her head and Amanda trying to ignore the way her tank top rides up the smooth olive skin of her stomach as she does so. "Are you okay? Are you sick? Did you have a nightmare?"

Amanda's smile widens at the blatant worry emanating from Olivia's tone, no thought whatsoever given to her own suffering, before the smile fades as she reminds herself that she doesn't deserve the kindness and care that Olivia has been showing her; not after the way she has been acting in return. "I'm fine," she assures her quietly, continuing to trace small circles across her arm and moving down to gently caress each finger in turn, still quite intent on soothing her colleague. "I was sick a little earlier but I feel better now and I don't remember if I've had any nightmares. You, on the other hand, sounded like you were having a bad one."

"Yeah, I was," Olivia confirms softly, brown eyes glittering with what look to be unshed tears in the darkness of the room, and Amanda shifts closer on the floor, sliding forward on her knees so she is pressed right up against the front of the couch, unable to keep herself from touching the huddled figure on the cushions.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks gently, noticing how Olivia leans into her touch as she moves a hand in a rhythmic motion over her head and shoulder and arm, wincing when her fingers drift lower and accidentally slide across the satin skin of the other woman's bare thigh.

"Sorry," Amanda mutters in shame, blinking in surprise when she tries to remove her hand and finds her fingers caught in the strong grip of Olivia's, their digits entwining together as the brunette pulls her even closer.

Amanda ends up with her head resting on the cushion in front of Olivia's stomach and a hand larger than her own stroking through the mess of blonde hair atop her head, like the tables have been turned and she is now the one being comforted again. For a moment neither of them utter a word, the room completely silent as their fingers remained linked and Olivia continues to rub a palm over Amanda's hair while Amanda's other hand slides up to grip onto Olivia's hip and give a tender squeeze.

Their bodies remain locked there together in the quiet darkness of the night, each seeking to soothe the other and to bring at least a temporary respite from the demons that haunt them, Amanda freezing in horror when Olivia finally speaks again, the older woman's voice hesitant and sorrowful and radiating a deep sadness that she understands all too well.

"Amanda, my mother was an alcoholic."


End file.
